Robert 

Ames 
Bennef 


E  LIBRARY 

SMIL  B.  4  Ll}E       ~ 


fc 


The  Blond  Beast 


By 

Robert  Ames  Bennet 

Author  of 

"  For  the  White  Christ, 
"Into  the  Primitive,"  "Which  One?"  etc. 


Chicago 
The  Reilly  &  Britton  Co. 


UNIY.  .Oil  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


Copyright,  1918 

by 
Robert  Ames  Bennet 


All  rights  reserved 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


The  Blond  Beast 


To 
MY  ONLY  SON 

who  is  giving  himself 

and  to 

ALL  OTHER  SONS 
who  are  giving  themselves 

for  freedom  and  country 
for  democracy  against  autocracy 
for  Christ  against  the  Blond  Beast 


2126053 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I    VERBOTEN   7 

II    UNTEB  DEN  LINDEN 18 

III  INTO  THE  GUTTER 29 

IV  PLAYS  FOB  POSITION 37 

V    THE  HiGH-BoBN  COUNT 48 

VI    SUBBING  UP  THE  TIGERS 59 

VII    His  LEAVE  OF  ABSENCE 73 

VIII    THE  EOSE'S  STEM 81 

IX    A  BEE  IN  THE  HONEY 88 

X    A  THEFT  OF  HONOB 97 

XI    SHADOWS  109 

XII    Qui  VIVE?   120 

XIII  WAR  AND  RUMORS  OF  WAR 129 

XIV  EDGE  OF  THE  TEMPEST 138 

XV    THE  GRAY  TORRENT 152 

XVI    THE  BEAST  RAMPANT 168 

XVII    FIRE  AND  SWORD 178 

XVIII    HELL    191 

XIX    SWORD   AGAINST   CROSS 201 

XX    FORESTALLED   213 

XXI     PAWNS  IN  THE  GAME 222 

XXII    INTO  FRANCE  236 

XXIII  A  NIGHT  SURPRISE 247 

XXIV  A  FATEFUL  MEETING.  .  .  258 


Contents 

PAGE 

XXV    WOLF  IN  SHEEP'S  CLOTHING 267 

XXVI    WINE  AND  WOMAN 278 

XXVII    BESIEGED   291 

XXVIII    THE  STRATAGEM    . ...  302 

XXIX    THE  WAY  OUT 311 

XXX    WTHEN  INTERESTS  CHANGE 321 

XXXI    BROKEN  TIES  334 

XXXII    ON  THE  RELIEF 344 

XXXIII  THE  EAGLE'S  BEAK 353 

XXXIV  PISTOLS  AT  SUNRISE 365 

XXXV    FLIGHT  375 

XXXVI    VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 384 

XXXVII    THE  BATTLE  OF  BATTLES 395 

XXXVIli  THE  GIVERS  ,                               .  408 


The  Blond  Beast 


CHAPTER  I 
VEEBOTEN 

June  of  1914  —  the  last  month  of  the  Forty 
Years'  Peace, 

The  lavas  of  the  great  volcano  had  seethed  up 
close  under  the  thin  crust  of  appearances,  but 
the  rumble  of  the  approaching  cataclysm  was 
too  low  and  deep-pitched  for  most  ears  to  hear. 
The  mass  of  humanity  had  risen  to  the  level  of 
"  live  and  let  live."  They  believed  in  peace  on 
earth;  good  will  among  men. 

America  was  busy  making  and  spending  money. 
England  had  thought  for  little  else  than  labor 
troubles  and  the  Home  Eule  imbroglio.  France's 
tongue  clicked  delectably  over  the  Caillaux 
case.  Still  more  scandalous  tales  about  the  grand 
dukes  and  the  monk  Rasputin  leaked  across  the 
Russian  frontier.  Germany  re-echoed  with  dis- 
putes over  the  Zabern  affair  in  irreconcilable 
Alsace. . . .  And  down  beyond  mongrel  Austria- 
Hungary,  little  Serbia  was  nursing  her  wrath 
against  the  big  bully  who  had  robbed  her  of  the 
Old  Serbia  lands  —  the  country  of  her  fellow 
Serbs  that  she  had  freed  from  the  Turk  at  heavy 
cost  of  blood  and  treasure. 

7 


8  The  Blond  Beast 

The  hissing  in  Alsace  gave  fair  warning  of 
the  menace  beneath  the  surface.  Yet  superheated 
steam  may  rise  from  a  dying  volcano.  The 
Zabern  resentment  of  military  tyranny  was  so 
regarded.  No  public  attention  was  attracted  by 
the  Serbian  wrath.  Its  silence  was  as  profound 
as  that  of  the  German  General  Staff  regarding 
The  Day  when  the  mighty  Teutonic  war-machine, 
painstakingly  upbuilt  for  forty  years,  should 
thunder  forth  to  crush  Europe  under  its  Jugger- 
naut wheels. 

To  the  world  in  general,  and  in  large  part  to 
herself,  Germany  still  remained  the  land  of 
music  and  mysticism,  though  now  bright  with 
the  white  glory  of  scientific  achievement  and 
humming  like  a  gigantic  beehive  with  peaceful 
industry  and  commerce.  Few  persons  even 
within  her  own  borders  understood  the  trickery 
in  her  tradesmen's  methods  of  " dumping"  on 
foreign  markets.  Still  fewer  suspected  the  insid- 
ious network  of  espionage  with  which  her  rulers 
had  enmeshed  every  other  country. 

Only  a  few  statesmen  and  diplomats  and  a 
handful  of  clear-sighted  students  of  events  real- 
ized that  the  land  of  Goethe  and  Schiller  had 
lost  its  noble  idealism.  Most  foreigners  smiled 
at  the  assertions  of  modern  German  philosophers 
that  the  State  is  above  morality  and  that  might 
makes  right.  They  thought  these  doctrines  no 
more  than  the  academic  vaporings  of  militaristic 
writers  who  had  pored  too  intently  over  the 
works  of  mad  Nietzsche. 

Allan  Thorpe  was  among  the  great  majority 
who  saw  Germany  as  the  forefront  of  modern 


Verboten  9 

civilization,  the  great  protagonist  of  science  and 
efficiency  and  kultur.  He  had  come  over  from 
America  prepared  to  be  favorably  impressed  by 
all  things  Teutonic.  Close  friendship  with  Kurt 
von  Kissel,  his  roommate  during  their  last  year 
at  Yale,  had  enabled  him  to  make  allowance  for 
the  caste  arrogance  of  Prussian  officers.  Though 
Kurt  was  now  a  lieutenant  in  the  Imperial  Guard, 
his  gentleness  and  fine  qualities  put  the  spirit 
of  his  fellow  aristocrats  in  the  best  possible  light. 

Bismarck  called  Berlin  a  wilderness  of  brick 
and  newspapers.  Had  Thorpe  been  an  artist,  he 
might  have  preferred  one  of  the  old  romantic 
South  German  towns.  The  Imperial  capital,  most 
modern  of  all  modern  cities,  is  the  epitome  of 
Prussianism.  But  the  lack  of  winding  lanes  and 
the  Philistinism  of  the  heavy  buildings  did  not 
trouble  Thorpe.  He  saw  only  the  breadth  and 
scrupulous  cleanliness  of  the  streets.  His  natural 
trait  of  orderliness  enabled  him  to  accept  without 
friction  the  countless  governmental  rules  and 
prohibitions.  The  omnipresent  police  never  irri- 
tated him. 

He  had  plunged  at  once  into  his  postgraduate 
year  in  science.  What  little  time  his  lectures- 
and  studies  and  laboratory  work  left  on  his 
hands,  motherly  Frau  von  Kissel  took  care  to 
fill  in  with  social  entertainment.  The  good  frau 
was  deeply  grateful  for  the  favors  and  compan- 
ionship that  Thorpe  had  been  only  too  glad  to 
give  her  son  in  America. 

No  less  potent  in  rose- tinting  the  visitor's  view 
of  all  things  Teutonic  was  Kurt's  young  sister 
Elsa.  She  was  attending  a  very  strict  school 


10  The  Blond  Beast 

for  high-born  frauleins,  an  institution  patronized 
by  the  Empress  herself.  No  callers  were  per- 
mitted, for  a  nunnery  could  not  have  been  more 
severe  in  its  rules.  But  during  the  Christmas 
holidays,  and  again  at  Easter,  Thorpe  had  met 
the  girl  at  her  home. 

Each  time  she  had  been  surrounded  by  rela- 
tives and  elderly  friends,  whom  German  hospi- 
tality required  her  to  serve  with  the  attentiveness 
of  a  Japanese  daughter-in-law.  She  was  alto- 
gether too  modest  and  too  restrained  by  her 
severe  training  to  permit  Thorpe  any  opening, 
though  she  had  shown  herself  unaffectedly 
pleased  to  meet  her  brother's  American  friend. 

Thorpe  was  far  more  than  pleased.  Elsa  was 
a  golden  blonde,  with  a  milk  and  coral  complexion 
almost  unbelievably  perfect,  and  eyes  that  were 
heavenly  not  alone  in  color.  To  an  American 
she  had  the  novel  charm  of  the  still-typical 
German  fraulein,  who  regards  her  elders  with 
reverence  and  the  men  of  her  class  with  meek 
respect.  She  would  as  soon  have  recanted  her 
unquestioning  religious  faith  as  to  have  dis- 
obeyed the  authority  of  her  mother  and  brother. 

To  Thorpe  the  girl's  disposition  was  even  more 
angelic  than  her  beauty.  He  had  left  home 
dejected  and  exasperated  by  a  rebuff  from  a 
girl  as  typically  American  as  Elsa  von  Kissel 
was  German.  He  had  tweaked  the  " pigtail"  of 
Lucy  Carew  and  lugged  her  books  to  and  from 
high  school  in  the  days  before  her  father  worked 
himself  into  millions  and  a  mausoleum.  During 
his  college  years,  his  friendship  for  the  girl  had 
warmed  to  love.  But  Lucy  had  forestalled  his 


Verboten  11 

proposal  and  sent  him  hurrying  off  to  Europe, 
humiliated  by  the  surmise  that  she  believed  he 
had  been  seeking  her  fortune. 

He  was  still  sore  and  aching  when,  months 
later,  the  sweetness  and  soft  beauty  of  Elsa 
von  Kissel  came  into  his  life  as  a  healing  balm. 
To  grasp  at  the  relief  was  natural,  and  no  effort 
was  needed  to  center  his  thoughts  on  the  lovely 
young  sister  of  his  friend.  His  next  meeting 
with  her,  during  the  Easter  holidays,  confirmed 
the  first  ardent  visionings  of  her  adorableness. 

When  he  confided  his  feelings  to  Kurt,  the 
young  aristocrat  smiled  indulgently,  yet  a  bit 
soberly,  and  suggested  that  the  paying  of  court 
to  his  mother  might  be  advisable.  The  hint  was 
sufficient.  Before  the  close  of  Elsa's  last  term 
of  school  life,  Thorpe  had  ensconced  himself 
deeper  than  ever  in  the  good  graces  of  the  kindly 
German  lady.  But,  unlike  an  European,  he  said 
nothing  to  her  about  his  desire  for  her  daughter. 
Even  after  his  many  months  in  Germany,  he 
still  clung  to  the  American  idea  of  winning  the 
girl  before  asking  the  parental  blessing. 

At  last  came  the  eventful  day  when  Elsa 
should  finish  with  the  narrow  discipline  of  school 
and  return  home  a  duly  educated  and  marriage- 
able high-born  fraulein.  Though  Thorpe  had 
already  written  his  thesis  and  won  his  post- 
graduate degree,  he  was  attending  a  special 
course  at  the  university.  For  once,  however, 
he  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  call  of  his  lifework, 
and  cut  an  unusually  important  lecture. 

He  could  not  have  lived  many  months  in 
Deutschland  and  failed  to  realize  that  no  German 


12  The  Blond  Beast 

girl  without  a  dot  can  expect  proposals  of  mar- 
riage. He  also  knew  that  Elsa's  dowry  was  very 
small.  Yet  as  an  American  he  could  not  but 
feel  certain  that  the  girl's  loveliness  would  far 
more  than  outbalance  her  lack  of  fortune.  He 
looked  forward  with  no  little  apprehension  to 
the  hot  rivalry  that  he  expected  from  the  many 
titled  young  junkers  and  officers  of  her  social 
class. 

In  honor  of  Elsa's  graduation,  the  Von  Kissels 
had  sent  out  cards  for  a  reception.  Thorpe 
planned  to  be  the  first  man  who  should  con- 
gratulate her.  As  an  untitled  foreigner  of  small 
income,  he  thought  he  must  take  particular 
pains  to  be  early  in  the  field.  The  exercises 
at  the  school  would  not  be  over  until  afternoon. 
But  mid-morning  found  him  already  dressing 
with  a  fastidiousness  that  he  had'  not  shown 
since  Easter. 

He  was  anxiously  inspecting  the  general  result 
of  his  labors  when,  close  upon  noon,  his  buxom 
landlady  came  puffing  up  to  his  attic  flat  with 
a  very  smartly  costumed  French  chauffeur.  The 
man  favored  him  with  a  bow  of  suave  dignity, 
and  presented  an  unsealed  note. 

The  monogram  embossed  on  the  heavy  linen 
envelope  would  have  been  sufficient  identification 
of  the  sender  even  without  the  round  un-German 
writing  of  the  address.  Thorpe's  hazel  eyes 
clouded  as  he  took  out  the  note.  But  as  he  read 
the  missive,  his  tightened  lips  relaxed  and  his 
eyes  cleared. 

In  the  peremptory  tone  of  assured  trust  and 
friendship,  Lucy  Carew  demanded  that  "  Dear 


Yerboten  13 

Lan  "  come  to  her  hotel  at  once  and  shoo  off 
the  horrid  Dutch  police.  His  smile  of  relief 
gave  way  too  quickly  to  concern  for  the  girl 
to  allow  room  for  any  dwelling  upon  past  resent- 
ment. He  caught  up  his  hat. 

The  waiting  Frenchman  led  him  down  to  a 
wondrous  touring  car,  the  first  glimpse  of  which 
told  Thorpe  that  it  was  Lucy's  property.  He 
could  not  mistake  the  perfect  matching  of  her 
hair  by  the  burnished  golden-copper  finish  of  the 
body.  The  trimmings  were  as  near  in  tint  to 
her  sea-green  eyes  as  mere  pigment  could  attain. 
Cushions  and  linings  told  that  her  complexion 
was  still  rose  and  old  gold. 

As  he  expected,  the  French  chauffeur  motored 
him,  at  the  extreme  speed  permitted  of  civilians, 
to  the  most  expensive  hotel  in  Berlin.  Ushered 
to  Lucy's  luxurious  suite,  he  found  his  exquisite 
young*  countrywoman  serving  tea  to  a  pair  of 
severe  and  unmistakably  bewildered  secret  serv- 
ice agents. 

At  the  last  moment  he  remembered  to  feel  a 
momentary  embarrassment.  But  her  greeting 
ignored  any  cause  for  constraint.  Instead  of 
meeting  him  coldly  or  springing  up  in  agitated 
appeal  for  his  aid,  she  smiled  in  her  most  friendly 
manner,  beckoned  him  to  a  chair,  and  tilted  her 
teapot  with  perfect  aplomb. 

"  I  knew  you'd  come,  Lan,  if  Henri  could  find 
you,"  she  said.  "  Still  take  three  lumps  of 
sugar,  do  you?  —  Just  tell  these  officers  I'm  too 
harmless  to  jail.  Then  we'll  have  a  good  old- 
time  chin-chin.  I  did  England  in  a  week,  and 
Holland  in  five  days.  Just  got  to  Berlin.  Now  I 


14  The  Blond  Beast 

want  your  advice  on  my  tour  through  Germany. ' ' 
Thorpe  looked  closer  at  the  unwelcome  visitors, 
and  recognized  the  senior  as  an  acquaintance  of 
Kurt  von  Kissel's.  His  card  and  a  courteous 
question  in  German  brought  about  a  slight 
unbending  of  official  rigidity.  With  guttural  pre- 
ciseness  the  senior  agent  explained  to  "  Herr 
Allan  Dorp  "  the  charges  against  the  American- 
isch  f  raulein.  —  She  had  crossed  from  Holland 
without  a  passport;  she  had  taken  photographs 
of  the  Krupp  works  at  Essen,  and  her  chauffeur 
had  exceeded  the  speed  limit  for  civilians  in 
Berlin. 

True,  the  last  infraction  of  governmental  regu- 
lations was  a  matter  to  be  satisfied  by  payment 
of  a  fine.  Also  true,  passports  had  not  in  recent 
years  been  rigidly  required  of  tourists,  except 
on  the  Russian  frontier.  Nevertheless,  the 
Americanisch  f  raulein 's  lack  of  a  passport  be- 
came serious  in  connection  with  the  heinous  fact 
that  she  had  taken  photographs  at  Essen,  which 
was  verboten. 

Lucy  Carew  suspected  of  being  a  spy!  —  A 
year  before,  Thorpe  would  have  laughed  in  the 
faces  of  the  solemn  officials.  Now  he  did  not 
feel  the  slightest  impulse  to  indulge  in  mirth. 
He  knew  his  Germany.  With  unfeigned  gravity 
he  vouched  for  the  harmlessness  of  his  wealthy 
and  eminently  respectable  friend  Miss  Carew. 
Her  offense  had  been  due  to  innocent  ignorance 
of  Imperial  laws.  She  would  be  eager  to  make 
amends  for  whatever  unintentional  harm  had 
been  done. 


Verboten  15 

After  this  clearing  of  the  ground,  Thorpe  pro- 
ceeded to  suggest  an  arrangement  of  the  affair. 
The  junior  secret  service  man  frowned  in  stern 
disapproval.  His  superior  considered,  and  reluc- 
tantly agreed. 

"  The  Herr  Inspector  is  most  kind,  Miss 
Carew,"  said  Thorpe,  greatly  relieved.  "It  is 
well  the  officials  are  used  to  our  American  happy- 
go-lucky  ways.  Had  you  been  of  any  other 
nationality,  they'd  have  arrested  you  as  a  spy 
the  moment  you  took  those  Krupp  photographs." 

Lucy's  lovely  green  eyes  widened. 

' '  A  spy  —  and  only  a  few  snapshots  with  my 
baby  kodak?  How  silly!  " 

"  Not  to  Europeans.  But  I  have  explained 
your  innocence  of  all  intent  to  do  wrong.  I  am 
to  take  you  to  our  embassy  for  a  passport  — 
after  you  have  handed  over  the  forbidden 
photographs. ' ' 

"  Give  up  my  pictures?  "  protested  the  girl. 
"  What  a  shame!  I'll  not  do  it." 

"  You  forget  this  is  not  America,"  Thorpe 
came  back  at  her  with  rather  more  of  the  tone 
of  the  domineering  Prussian  male  than  the  defer- 
ence to  which  she  was  accustomed.  "  You  will 
give  up  the  photos,  or  they  will  be  taken  —  and 
you  too.  Though  the  charge  may  seem  absurd 
to  you,  these  officials  are  doing  their  strict  duty 
—  no  more.  The  arrangement  I  have  made  is 
an  unusual  courtesy." 

"  It's  an  outrage!  "  exclaimed  Lucy,  her  eyes 
flashing.  "  I  shall  have  our  ambassador  demand 
an  apology  and —  " 


16  The  Blond  Beast 

"  We'll  go  to  him  at  once.  But  first,  turn 
over  those  photographs,  else  we  shall  be  required 
to  go  to  the  police  station." 

Lucy  looked  the  stern-faced  Germans  up  and 
down  with  haughty  disdain,  and  called  over  her 
shoulder:  "  Marcelle,  my  camera." 

The  elderly  French  maid,  who  had  been  hover- 
ing in  the  background,  hastened  to  fetch  a  pocket 
kodak.  Her  mistress  took  out  the  spool,  coolly 
stepped  to  the  window,  and,  with  a  sudden  sweep, 
unrolled  the  film  in  the  full  glare  of  the  mid-day 
sun.  The  senior  official  sprang  to  snatch  the  roll 
from  her.  He  poured  out  a  torrent  of  mingled 
threats  and  chidings  in  harsh,  jagged  English. 
Lucy  confronted  him  with  the  chill  dignity  of 
an  offended  princess. 

The  restraint  of  Thorpe's  German  training 
snapped.  He  thrust  between,  and  pushed  back 
the  angry  denouncer. 

"  Enough  of  that,"  he  said.  "  This  is  an 
American  lady.  We  shall  see  what  our  ambas- 
sador has  to  say  about  your  insulting  behavior." 

"  Eimmel!  My  superiors  vill  the  say  haf," 
spluttered  the  German.  "  She  the  photographs 
gespoilt!  " 

"  I  am  not  taking  snapshots  for  other  people," 
said  Lucy.  "  If  I  can't  keep  my  memento  views, 
no  one  else  shall  have  them." 

"  You  see,"  Thorpe  caught  at  the  point. 
"  The  fraulein  took  the  photos  merely  as  memen- 
tos of  her  tour.  She  has  now  destroyed  the 
verboten  film.  What  more  could  you  ask?  We 
will  go  immediately  to  the  American  embassy 


Verboten  17 

and  protest  against  your  insults.     I  will  also 
consult  my  friend  Lieutenant  von  Kissel." 

Before  this  firm  front,  the  German  drew  back 
to  consult  with  his  junior.  After  a  guttural 
muttering,  they  rolled  up  the  ruined  film  and  left 
the  suite  with  boorish  abruptness. 


CHAPTER  II 
UNTEE  DEN  LINDEN 

Thorpe  waved  Lucy  to  hasten  into  her 
dressing-room.  Instead  of  going,  she  clasped 
his  out-thrust  arm  between  both  her  jeweled 
hands  and  beamed  up  into  his  concerned  face 
with  what  he  took  to  be  the  glow  of  gratitude. 

1 1  You  dear  old  stand-by !  ' '  she  murmured. 
"  No  matter  if  you  did  run  off  to  Europe  last 
year  without  saying  good-by  —  no  matter  if 
you've  never  written  me  a  line!  I  knew  I  could 
count  on  you,  Lan.  I  want  to  tell  you —  " 

"  Later,"  broke  in  Thorpe.  "  There's  no 
guessing  what  the  secret  service  and  the  police 
may  do  next.  Get  on  your  hat  and  come  down 
at  once.  I'll  make  sure  your  car  is  ready." 

He  was  out  in  the  corridor  before  she  could 
reply.  A  few  years  earlier  she  would  have 
pouted  over  her  disappointment.  Now  she  smiled 
and  hastened  to  select  the  hat  she  thought  would 
best  please  him.  His  hurry  and  brusqueness  had 
been  due  to  concern  for  her.  After  they  had 
been  to  the  embassy  and  he  was  sure  of  her 
safety  from  the  impertinent  police,  he  would  find 
time  to  speculate  on  what  had  brought  her  to 
Berlin. 

In  the  meantime  Thorpe  had  thought  only  for 
the  danger  in  which  he  believed  his  country- 
is 


Unter  den  Linden  19 

woman  had  been  placed  by  her  indiscretion.  He 
met  her  at  the  elevator  and  hurriedly  led  the 
way  to  the  car.  All  during  the  drive  to  the 
embassy,  he  was  silent  and  kept  an  alert  eye 
out  for  the  many  soldierly  policemen  on  guard 
in  the  broad  streets.  He  did  not  notice  the 
charming  hat  of  his  companion  —  or  her  face. 
By  the  time  the  car  rolled  along  the  Wilhelm 
Platz  to  the  American  embassy,  the  look  of 
tender  eagerness  in  her  eyes  had  disappeared 
behind  a  cool,  rather  over-bright  surface  luster. 

Though  the  ambassador  was  away,  Thorpe 
knew  the  attaches,  and  Lucy's  munificent  letters 
of  credit  on  a  Paris  bank  established  her  identity 
in  most  convincing  manner. 

"  You  see,  I  came  over  prepared  to  buy  a 
chateau  —  or  a  title, '  *  she  remarked  to  the  lega- 
tion secretary  in  a  tone  that  struck  Thorpe  as 
not  altogether  facetious. 

"  Hats  too,"  he  rallied.  "  No  doubt  you'll 
soon  be  flitting  to  Paris.  Mr.  Thorpe  will  tell 
you  that  schlosses  but  not  chateaux  are  made  in 
Germany.  As  for  titled  husbands,  it's  long  odds 
that  the  French  brand  will  be  the  less  unman- 
ageable." 

Lucy  met  the  banter  with  a  very  fair  imitation 
of  a  French  shrug. 

"  Oh,  if  I  marry  in  Germany,  I'll  expect  to 
honor  and  obey." 

Thorpe  took  up  her  carefully  made-out  pass- 
port, the  photograph  on  which  was  a  snapshot 
from  her  own  kodak.  Going  out  to  the  car,  he 
remarked  on  the  excellence  of  the  likeness. 

"  My  baby  camera  has  a  hundred-dollar  lens," 


20  The  Blond  Beast 

she  explained.  "  It  takes  perfect  pictures.  Those 
stupid  policemen  —  to  make  me  ruin  a  whole 
film!" 

11  Why  did  you?  Some  of  the  exposures  may 
not  have  been  verboten." 

11  Of  course  not.  They  were  all  cows  and 
peasants  and  geese." 

"  All. .  .geese!  But  those  views  yon  took  at 
Essen?  "  queried  Thorpe,  pausing  in  perplexity 
with  his  hand  on  the  tonneau  door  of  the  car. 

"  Oh,  the  Krupp  pictures,"  answered  the  girl. 
"  Those  were  three  or  four  films  back." 

The  car  door  swung  open  to  Thorpe's  jerk. 
He  half  lifted  his  companion  up  into  the  seat 
and  sprang  in  after  her. 

' l  Back  to  the  hotel  —  quick !  "  he  called  to 
the  chauffeur. 

"Why  —  why,  Lan,  what's  the  hurry  7  " 
remonstrated  Lucy.  "  One  would  think  you 
were  in  America." 

"  If  only  we  were!  "  rejoined  Thorpe  as  the 
car  swung  around.  "  Those  confounded  snap- 
shots! If  your  baggage  is  searched  before  we 
get  back  —  ' ' 

Lucy  patted  his  arm  with  a  reassuring  hand. 

"  Don't  worry  about  them.  They're  nearer 
us  than  the  hotel,  and  perfectly  safe.  Before 
I  took  them  I  knew  the  Germans  wouldn't  like 
it.  Henri  had  told  me.  So  I've  taken  care  of 
them.  They'll  be  so  cute  when  developed.  One's 
of  a  huge  ugly  squat  cannon  —  oh,  so  enormous ! 
It  made  me  think  of  those  monstrous  reptiles  in 
the  museums  —  the  fossil  creatures  they  call 
dynamos." 


Unter  den  Linden  21 

"  Dynosaurs,"  corrected  Thorpe. 

"  Yes.  Well,  the  guide  led  our  party  past  a 
door  that  had  a  great  big  Verboten  painted  on 
it.  So  I  slipped  back  and  took  a  peek  inside. 
That  funny  dynamo  cannon  was  so  big  I  couldn't 
see  past  it.  The  workman  I  asked  to  pose  in 
front  when  I  took  the  snaps  must  have  tattled 
on  me.  But  don't  worry.  The  film  isn't  at  the 
hotel." 

Thorpe  bent  forward  to  re-direct  the  chauffeur : 
"  To  the  right,  into  the  Thiergarten.  Drive 
slow. ' ' 

<{  No  wonder  you  were  followed,"  he  reproved, 
as  he  relaxed  on  the  luxurious  cushions  beside 
the  girl.  "  Eight  now  you'd  be  in  a  cell  if  you 
weren't  an  heiress,  an  American,  and  a  beauty." 

Lucy  flashed  him  an  eager  glance  that  he  failed 
to  catch.  He  was  staring  dubiously  at  the  back 
of  the  French  chauffeur.  Reaction  lent  a  touch 
of  tartness  to  the  girl's  reply: 

"  If  they  hadn't  made  such  a  fuss,  I'd  have 
given  them  the  real  film.  I  don't  permit  any- 
one to  be  rude  to  me.  That  is  why  I  spoiled 
the  other  film  to  fool  them." 

"  Yes,  you  duped  them  —  and  added  enough 
proof  to  your  first  indiscretion  to  convict  your- 
self of  spying,  if  those  snapshots  are  found  on 
you,"  said  Thorpe. 

"  How  you  do  keep  on  at  that!  They're  safe, 
I  tell  you.  In  the  embassy  I  addressed  them  to 
myself,  at  Paris,  and  slipped  them  into  the 
dispatch-pouch  that  the  courier  said  was  to  be 
taken  to  our  French  embassy." 

Thorpe   leaned  back   again   and   mopped   his 


22  The  Blond  Beast 

forehead,  too  astonished  for  an  immediate  reply. 

"  For  sheer  transatlantic  nerve,  Loo  Carew, 
you  are  the  limit,"  he  groaned.  "  Of  course, 
you're  safe  on  this  affair  now.  But  to  think 
of  a  girl  like  you  running  loose  around  Europe 
without  an  asylum  attendant!  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  I'm  counting  on  you  to  take 
the  position,"  countered  the  girl. 

Her  eyelids  drooped  under  his  surprised  stare, 
and  the  rose  of  her  cheeks  deepened  a  shade. 

"  I  —  I  mean  —  it  would  be  so  bothersome  to 
have  the  usual  courier,  and  I  thought  —  that 
perhaps  you  —  as  an  old  friend,  you  know. . .  " 

Even  the  conclusion  of  the  faltering  explana- 
tion failed  to  clear  away  Thorpe's  frown. 

"  Conventions  are  strict  enough  at  home,  Loo. 
Here  they  are  iron-clad,"  he  chided.  "  After 
such  an  indiscretion,  you'd  never  have  a  ghost 
of  a  show,  even  for  a  French  title." 

"  You  stupid  old  silly!  "  cried  the  girl. 
"  Can't  you  guess  that  I —  " 

"  A  maid  isn't  enough,"  cut  in  Thorpe. 
"  You'd  need  a  chaperon  of  a  social  standing  at 
least  equal  to  Frau  von  Kissel's. .  .I'm  sorry, 
though,  Loo.  It's  mighty  good  of  you  to  let 
bygones  be  bygones  and  give  me  a  chance  for 
the  grand  tour.  I  had  been  planning  to  tramp 
it  this  summer,  if  I  couldn't  get  a  lift... only 
now,  you  see,  my  work —  " 

Lucy  half  raised  her  gaze,  her  eyes  very  dark 
under  their  shadowing  lashes.  Her  red  lips 
parted  in  a  bantering  smile. 

"  No,  I  don't  see  her;  but  I'd  like  to.  What's 
her  name?  " 


Unter  den  Linden  23 

Thorpe's  embarrassed  flush  was  sufficient  con- 
firmation of  his  companion's  suspicion. 

"  I  thought  so!  "  she  rallied.  "  I  half  guessed 
it  right  at  first,  when  you  put  on  that  brotherly 
air... One  of  those  so-lofely  Gretchens,  I  sup- 
pose—  indigo  eyes  and  straw-colored  hair." 

' '  Indigo  eyes !  ' '  protested  the  victim.  ' '  For 
that,  I  shall  take  you  to  Fraulein  von  Kissel's 
reception  and  —  ' ' 

"  Do,  by  all  means.  When  is  it?  I'm  dying 
to  meet  some  of  these  grand  opera  officers.  Their 
eyes  are  all  steel-gray  or  china-blue." 

She  smiled  at  the  resplendently  uniformed 
young  hussar  and  grenadier  officers  who  were 
cantering  by  on  highstrung  thoroughbreds  or 
whirling  along  in  military  cars. 

Thorpe  somewhat  curtly  called  her  attention 
to  the  groups  of  marble  statues  on  the  other  side. 

"  If  you  want  to  look  at  the  real  Prussians, 
here  they  are,"  he  said.  "  The  Emperor  had  all 
his  ancestors  carved  for  the  Thiergarten,  each 
with  a  pair  of  counsellors." 

Lucy's  dark  eyebrows  arched  as  he  pointed 
out  in  turn  the  statues  of  the  Great  Elector,  of 
Frederick  the  Great,  and  all  the  other  blood- 
and-iron  rulers  who  had  beaten  back  foes  on 
every  side  and  welded  together  first  Prussia, 
then  all  Germany,  with  their  hard  hammering 
in  the  forge  of  war. 

"  What  an  endless  lot  of  fighters,"  she  criti- 
cized. '  *  Not  a  single  angel  or  —  other  f raulein 
—  to  break  the  monotony.  No  wonder  some  of 
the  English  are  trying  to  get  up  a  scare  over 
the  War  Lord  and  his  shiny  sword.  What  can 


24  The  Blond  Beast 

you  expect  of  a  Kaiser  who'd  put  so  much  good 
marble  to  a  use  like  this?  " 

The  badinage  failed  to  win  any  smile  from 
Thorpe. 

"  The  Emperor  is  a  very  remarkable  man," 
he  reproved.  "  No  one  in  Germany  speaks 
lightly  of  him.  In  his  hand  rests  the  peace  of 
Europe.  The  militarists  here  number  only  one 
million  of  the  sixty-seven  million  Germans.  But 
they  are  very  influential.  According  to  my  friend 
Kurt  von  Kissel,  if  it  were  not  for  the  Kaiser  —  " 

1 '  Oh,  yes  —  Kurt !  ' '  exclaimed  Lucy  with  sud- 
den vivacity.  "  Such  a  nice  boy.  Don't  you 
remember?  You  introduced  him  to  me  at  the 
Yale-Harvard  game." 

"Finest  fellow  I  know,"  said  Thorpe  — 
"  Born  aristocrat,  yet  American  in  so  many  ways. 
He  has  little  taste  for  army  life.  Intends  to 
resign  his  commission  as  soon  as  permissible, 
and  devote  himself  to  the  management  of  his 
estate." 

"  I  should  think  he'd  wish  to  keep  his  position 
as  an  officer,  even  if  he  doesn't  like  the  idle  life," 
remarked  Lucy.  "  Just  look  at  the  gorgeousness 
of  those  uniforms  —  scarlet  and  gold  and  silver 
and  Prussian  blue  and  green  —  white  plumes  and 
leopard  skins,  clinky  sabres  and  —  and  death's- 
heads!  " 

"  Idle?  "  Thorpe  caught  up  the  fair  critic. 
"  All  those  military  models  were  up  at  five  to 
drill  their  men  —  and  their  salaries  no  more 
than  a  sergeant's  pay  in  America,  As  for  Kurt 
—  like  most  Prussian  vons,  he's  as  poor  as  he's 
blue-blooded.  Belated  to  a  dozen  high-born 


TJntcr  den  Linden  25 

families  i— even,  in  a  way,  to  royalty.  But  his 
old  castle  is  almost  a  ruin,  and  the  few  acres 
left  of  the  estate  are  not  as  productive  as  they 
might  be." 

The  ear  had  left  the  Thiergarten  and  was 
purring  along  Unter  den  Linden.  As  Thorpe 
relaxed  from  his  fixed  stare  he  perceived  a  pair 
of  crimson-uniformed  hussar  officers  cantering 
aslant  towards  Lucy's  side  of  the  car.  They 
reined  in  their  mounts  to  fling  audacious  salutes 
at  the  foreign  fraulein.  Lucy  responded  with  a 
bow  of  such  condescending  graciousness  that  they 
mistook  her  for  a  "  Highness  "  and  came  stiffly 
to  a  real  salute. 

"  Just  like  their  insolence,"  muttered  Thorpe. 
"  Glad  you  brought  them  to  time.  Not  many 
girls  could  have  done  it  so  neatly." 

Lucy  looked  up  at  him  with  her  green  eyes 
half  veiled. 

"  You  flatter  me,  Lan.  But  there's  such  a 
thing  as  being  too  adept  in  defense. .  .And  now, 
to  return  to  the  question  of  my  tour. .  .You  sug- 
gested Kurt's  mother  as  chaperon." 

"You  mistook  me.     I  meant — " 

11  No  matter.  I  suggest  it  to  myself.  Don't 
frown.  I'm  preparing  to  rave  over  your  indigo- 
eyed  angel.  First  we'll  have  a  bite  to  eat,  and 
then  you'll  take  me  to  call.  You  can't  object 
to  my  coaxing  Mrs.  von  Kissel  into  motoring 
with  me  to  Paris.  As  you  see,  there's  room  for 
us  all  —  including  friend  Kurt  and  the  angel." 

1 '  Loo !  You  can 't  mean  it  ?  "  questioned 
Thorpe,  his  eyes  aglow  with  delight. 

Why  not?  "  she  replied.    "  You  wish  me  to 


<  < 


26  The  Blond  Beast 

make  the  acquaintance  of  your  friend,  and  I  take 
it  you  have  no  objection  to  traveling  in  the  same 
party  with  Miss  von  Kissel.  Who  knows?  We 
may  become  related  by  marriage,  after  all." 

The  bitter-sweet  irony  of  this  last  struck  under 
Thorpe's  feet.  He  was  afloat  in  a  golden  cloud 
of  anticipation.  To  bowl  through  Europe  for 
a  fortnight  or  a  month  side  by  side  with  Elsa 
von  Kissel  —  what  a  blissful  prospect! 

"  You're  a  brick,  Loo.  Just  like  you  to  forget 
my  foolishness  and  take  me  back  on  the  old 
chum  basis.  And  the  Von  Kissels  —  they're  of 
the  real  nobility,  though  the  title  is  in  another 
branch.  You're  bound  to  be  friends  with  Elsa. 
She's  adorably  artless  and  sincere." 

"Indeed?  Then  of  course  I  can't  hope  to 
resist  her  charms,  any 'more  than  you  have  — 
straw  hair,  indigo  eyes,  and  all.  For  your  sake, 
I'm  glad  she's  blond,  and  not  a  dark  angel." 

The  rather  fatuous  smile  with  which  Thorpe 
met  this  badinage  vanished  as  his  glance  flicked 
along  the  great  avenue.  Ahead,  in  the  direction 
of  Potsdam,  cars  were  swerving  aside  and  pedes- 
trians lining  up  along  the  walks.  At  a  sharp 
word  from  Thorpe,  the  French  chauffeur  turned 
in  and  stopped  beside  the  curb. 

Lucy's  glance  followed  Thorpe's,  and  was  held 
by  the  sight  of  policemen,  soldiers  and  officers 
clicking  their  heels  together  and  raising  their 
hands  in  precise  military  salute  to  a  big  car  that 
came  tearing  along  Unter  den  Linden  from  out 
Potsdam  way.  Men  not  in  uniform  lifted  their 
hats  and  bowed  sweepingly.  Even  women  and 
children  faced  the  car  with  profound  respect. 


TJnter  den  Linden  27 

Behind  the  jager  chauffeur  soon  effulged  into 
view  a  silver-helmeted  royalty  with  resplendent 
uniform  and  order-bespangled  breast.  He  sat 
severely  erect  in  the  rear  seat,  acknowledging 
the  "Hochs!"  of  the  people  with  dignified  mili- 
tary upliftings  of  his  right  hand.  Thorpe  sprang 
up  to  lift  his  hat  and  bow  almost  as  deferentially 
as  the  German  civilians. 

For  a  moment,  as  the  car  passed,  the  amused 
ironical  smile  of  the  American  girl  caught  and 
fixed  the  piercing  glance  of  Majestdt.  The  cold 
blue  eyes  froze  to  offended  hauteur,  the  strong 
jaw  set  like  iron.  With  the  tightening  of  the 
thin  lips,  the  uptwisted  mustache  ends  seemed  to 
threaten  like  the  tushes  of  a  wild  boar. 

Another  moment,  and  Majestdt  had  swept  past. 
Thorpe  bent  down  to  speak  to  his  companion. 
She  was  still  and  rather  white,  and  no  longer 
smiling. 

"  Don't  you  understand,  Loo?  "  he  asked. 
"  That  was  His  Imperial  Majesty,  the  Emperor.'* 

The  girl  quivered  with  a  little  shudder  of 
repugnance. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured.  "  He  looked  at  me. . . 
I  remember  my  father  said,  *  I  don't  like  that 
man  William.'  It  was  when  he  read  how  the 
Kaiser  sat  in  a  hunting  lodge  and  shot  down  two 
hundred  tame  deer  as  they  were  driven  past," 

"  But,  Loo,  that's  merely  the  German  idea  of 
sport.  It's  only  the  custom  of  the —  " 

"  Did  you  see  his  look?  "  broke  in  the  girl. 
"  And  you  say  he  has  the  peace  of  Europe  in 
his  hand  —  in  the  mailed  fist  he  talks  so  much 
about.  Poor  little  dove!  " 


28  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Cut  it,"  warned  Thorpe,  with  an  uneasy 
glance  towards  a  passing  car  of  Death's  Head 
Lancers.  "  Ridicule  of  the  Kaiser  is  a  serious 
offense  —  lese-majeste,  you  know.  Besides,  he's 
not  at  all  what  you  think  him.  Everyone  says 
he  is  very  gracious,  particularly  to  Americans. 
Whatever  you  do,  say  nothing  against  him  to  any 
German." 

Lucy  rallied  from  her  somber  mood. 

"  Oh,  I'll  agree  not  to  snub  him  if  he's  pre- 
sented to  me,  Lan.  But  let's  talk  about  some- 
thing pleasant.  We  passed  a  cafe  a  little  way 
back.  No  —  we  needn't  wait  for  Henri  to  turn 
round.  He  can  wait  here." 


The  cafe  was  equal  to  the  best  in  New  York. 
But  Lucy's  surprise  over  the  deliciousness  of  the 
German  cooking  forced  from  Thorpe  an  admis- 
sion that  all  high-class  Berlin  restaurants  and 
hotels  employed  French  chefs. 

To  offset  this,  he  took  up  most  of  the  luncheon 
time  with  an  enthusiastic  laudation  of  Ger- 
man achievements  in  science  and  in  kultur. 
Lucy  was  inclined  to  be  critical.  She  had  the 
normal  American  impatience  over  governmental 
restraints. 

"  I'd  never  get  used  to  all  these  verbotens," 
she  said.  "  Life  here  is  like  being  in  a  cage  and 
tied  up  to  the  bars.  Then  all  those  soldier  police 
with  their  swords!  I  never  saw  so  many  in  my 
life." 

"  But  look  at  the  results,"  argued  Thorpe. 
"  Here  we  have  an  almost  crimeless  city,  with 
streets  so  clean  you  could  eat  in  the  gutters. 
Compared  with  Apache-infested  Paris  —  ' ' 

"  And  with  French  hats  and  cooking!  "  inter- 
jected Lucy. 

"  You  shall  soon  have  a  taste  of  German  hos- 
pitality," rejoined  Thorpe.  "  I'll  phone  to  the 
Von  Kissels." 

He  came  back  from  the  telephone  beaming. 

29 


30  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Frau  von  Kissel  is  like  a  mother  to  me.  She 
urged  that  I  bring  you  to  Elsa's  reception.  It's 
a  very  informal  affair.  If  we  go  early,  there 
will  be  time  for  you  to  get  acquainted  before 
the  crush." 

11  Of  course  I'll  go,"  agreed  Lucy,  her  eyes 
like  polished  jade.  "  I'm  just  dying  to  see  your 
straw-haired  angel . . .  and  there 's  Kurt,  too  — 
and  maybe  I'll  meet  counts  and  barons  and 
dukes,  since  the  Kissels  are  what  you  call  high- 
born. ' ' 

She  was  still  bantering  when  Thorpe  led  her 
out  of  the  cafe.  A  policeman  had  required 
Henri  to  move  her  car  to  a  point  half  a  block 
away.  The  Frenchman  was  lolling  with  his  back 
to  them,  a  cigarette  perked  between  his  lips,  and 
his  black  eyes  seeking  to  intrigue  all  the  flaxen- 
haired  maidens  who  chanced  to  pass. 

Midway  between  car  and  cafe,  a  row  of  hilari- 
ous Prussian  officers  came  sweeping  along,  linked 
arm  in  arm  across  the  sidewalk  and  singing  at 
the  top  of  their  voices  a  beer-song  of  the  Stu- 
dent Corps.  As  they  advanced,  all  the  women 
and  men  before  them  seemed  to  have  urgent  busi- 
ness in  the  nearest  shops.  Thorpe  took  Lucy's 
arm  and  sought  to  lead  her  to  the  doorway  ad- 
joining the  cafe. 

"  Step  in  here  a  moment,"  he  urged. 

But  Lucy's  interest  was  centered  upon  the 
novel  spectacle  of  the  chorusing  officers. 

"  Wait,"  she  said.  "  I  want  to  hear  the  sex- 
tette. Just  look  at  them.  What  a  hit  they'd 
make  in  musical  comedy  with  that  assortment  of 
uniforms!  " 


Into  the  Gutter  31 

Before  Thorpe  could  explain  the  situation, 
she  jerked  free  from  his  detaining  arm  and 
slanted  out  along  the  sidewalk  directly  before 
the  row  of  officers.  They  bore  down  upon  her, 
stretched  all  the  way  across  from  building  line 
to  curb,  their  spurs  jingling  and  sabre  scabbards 
flashing. 

The  American  girl  might  has  posed  as  Beauty 
Adorned.  But  even  the  youngest  of  the  officers 
was  too  engrossed  in  his  singing  to  heed  her. 
Though  Thorpe  hurried  to  overtake  the  unsus- 
pecting girl,  she  was  out  beyond  the  middle  of 
the  walk  before  he  could  regain  his  position  be- 
side her.  The  long,  swinging  strides  of  the 
officers  had  already  brought  them  close.  Thorpe 
grasped  Lucy's  arm  and  drew  her  over  to  the 
curb.  But  as  he  stepped  into  the  gutter  she 
perceived  his  purpose  and  jerked  free. 

The  outermost  officer  of  the  row  was  a  tall 
captain  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  whose  florid 
hatchet  face  bore  the  purplish  scars  of  many 
rapier  slashes  above  the  tush-like  prongs  of  his 
ash-yellow  mustache.  Lucy,  of  course,  expected 
him  to  step  aside  for  her  to  pass.  He  did  not  so 
much  as  look  down  or  falter  a  single  note  of  the 
jolly  beer-song  as  he  swung  full  tilt  against  her. 
The  impact  knocked  her  reeling  into  the  gutter. 
Only  the  quick  clutch  of  Thorpe  saved  her  from 
falling  headlong. 

She  did  not  scream.  The  cry  that  she  flung 
at  the  back  of  the  tall  captain  was  hot  with 
scorn.  As  if  challenged,  he  broke  free  from  the 
next  officer  and  wheeled  about,  harsh-faced  and 
threatening.  His  abruptly  silenced  comrades 


32  The  Blond  Beast 

gave  him  the  sympathetic  support  of  frowns  and 
arrogant  stares  at  the  foreign  fraulein  who  had 
the  impertinence  to  be  indignant  at  a  Prussian 
officer. 

Anger  had  served  only  to  heighten  Lucy's 
beauty.  As  the  captain  eyed  her  flushed  cheeks 
and  gracefully  erect  form,  his  severity  relaxed 
to  insolent  admiration.  Gallantry  impelled  him 
to  forgive  the  charming  lady  for  her  presump- 
tion over  obstructing  the  sidewalk. 

"  Next  time,  miss,  you  will  know  better  than 
to  get  in  the  way  of  an  officer,"  he  admonished 
in  precisely  accented  English. 

Lucy  replied  with  the  deliberate  distinctness  of 
white-hot  anger :  ' '  Next  time  I  shall  know  what 
to  expect  of  clumsy  boors. " 

Two  or  three  of  the  younger  officers,  already 
flushed  with  beer  or  wine,  flamed  crimson  and 
grasped  at  their  sabre  hilts,  infuriated  by  so 
scandalous  an  insult  from  a  female.  The  cap- 
tain waved  them  back  and  fixed  his  steel-blue 
eyes  upon  Thorpe  in  an  icy  stare. 

"  So,"  he  jeered.  "  Your  pretty  bird's  feath- 
ers are  ruffled.  You  have  perhaps  a  remark  to 
make  —  nicht?  " 

Thorpe's  jaw  was  hard-set,  his  face  white. 
His  hazel  eyes  met  the  provocative  challenge  of 
the  Prussian's  look  without  wavering.  Neither 
the  menacing  gaze  nor  the  mocking,  arrogant 
smile  stung  him  out  of  his  self-control. 

"  Come,"  he  said  to  Lucy,  and  he  led  her 
away  towards  the  car. 

Within  a  few  paces  the  captain  came  tip  be- 
side her  other  elbow. 


Into  the  Gutter  33 

"  Most  charming  fraulein,"  he  murmured  with 
insolent  gallantry,  "  I  perceive  you  are  Ameri- 
canisch  and  so  did  not  understand.  The  pleasure 
shall  be  mine  of  escorting  you  to  a  cafe  for  a 
glass  of  champagne.  We  shall  break  a  bottle 
together  and  be  friends,  n'est-ce  pas?  " 

As  the  Prussian  spoke,  he  laid  his  gloved  hand 
on  Lucy's  arm.  She  looked  up  at  Thorpe,  her 
eyes  widening  in  half-frightened  expectancy.  His 
gaze  had  fixed  itself  straight  ahead  at  the  car. 
It  did  not  waver.  Lucy  drew  her  hand  from  his 
arm  and  slackened  her  gait. 

The  gallant  captain  smiled  in  half-contemptu- 
ous exultance  over  the  ease  of  his  conquest.  The 
freed  hand  of  the  American  girl  slipped  down 
into  her  purse.  She  drew  out  an  English  copper 
penny  and  held  it  up  to  the  Prussian,  her  lips 
curving  in  a  smile  of  gracious  condescension. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  "  but  I  shall  not 
require  your  services." 

Had  the  penny  been  red-hot  the  captain  could 
not  have  drawn  back  from  it  more  abruptly.  He 
flashed  a  savagely  eager  glance  at  Thorpe.  The 
American  went  on  without  looking  around.  Lucy 
arched  her  dark  eyebrows  at  the  furious  officer 
in  well-feigned  surprise,  dropped  the  penny  at 
his  feet,  and  quietly  walked  away  after  Thorpe. 

The  captain  did  not  follow  her.  Fortunately 
for  all  concerned,  his  body  had  so  blocked  the 
view  of  his  fellow  officers  that  none  of  them 
could  have  seen  the  offer  of  the  tip.  Had  Thorpe 
looked  back,  he  would  instantly  have  been  spitted 
on  the  Prussian's  sword.  As  it  was,  the 
Americanisch  fraulein  had  no  witnesses  to  her 


34  The  Blond  Beast 

mockery.  The  captain  was  the  senior  of  his 
companions  in  rank.  None  would  presume  to 
comment  upon  his  rebuff.  He  faced  about  and 
swaggered  back  to  link  his  arm  again  with  that 
of  the  outermost  lieutenant,  as  if  nothing  had 
occurred. 

Lucy  came  to  the  car  and  stepped  in  without 
either  looking  around  or  appearing  to  see  the 
hand  that  Thorpe  held  out  to  help  her.  In  the 
tonneau  she  turned  about  to  block  him  from 
following,  and  spoke  in  the  same  tone  that  she 
had  used  to  the  Prussian: 

"  I  shall  no  longer  require  your  very  kind 
services,  Mr.  Thorpe." 

He  gazed  up  at  her  with  no  sign  of  surprise 
or  of  shame.  A  steady  look  into  her  cool  eyes 
convinced  him  of  the  disdain  behind  her  surface 
graciousness.  He  closed  the  tonneau  door,  lifted 
his  hat,  and  stepped  back  to  go.  Lucy  flung  out 
her  hand  in  a  gesture  of  distress. 

*  *  Lan !  Wait !  Come  back  here . . .  The  idea ! 
You're  not  going  off  without  a  single  word  in 
defense  of  yourself.  I'll  not  permit  it." 

"  You  dismissed  me,  Miss  Carew." 

"  Nonsense!  Give  Henri  the  Kissel  address, 
and  get  in  here  at  once." 

Thorpe  obeyed  with  the  docility  of  a  German 
soldier  at  drill. 

"  Now,"  ordered  the  girl  as  the  car  rolled 
off  with  them.  "  Tell  me  why  you  didn't." 

Thorpe's  set  face  did  not  relax. 

"  Nothing  could  have  given  me  greater  pleas- 
ure than  to  have  tweaked  the  Prussian's  big 
nose  and  then  laid  him  in  the  gutter." 


Into  the  Gutter  35 


i  i 


Well?  "  queried  Lucy.  "  I  know  you  used 
to  box  and  you  must  admit  that  the  boor  needed 
a  good  thrashing." 

' '  Boxing  here  is  considered  brutal ...  I  might 
have  dropped  him  before  he  could  draw  on  me. 
But  there  were  all  his  companions." 

"  They  would  have  attacked  you?  —  The  cow- 
ards! " 

"  Don't  be  hasty,  Loo.  These  officers  are  a 
caste  apart  from  the  great  mass  of  good-natured, 
peace-loving  Germans.  I'm  only  a  civilian. 
They  would  have  been  compelled  to  avenge  the 
insult  to  their  superior  officer.  You  see,  I  didn't 
enjoy  the  prospect  of  being  carved  up,  and  I 
thought  it  might  be  rather  unpleasant  to  you  — 
even  more  so  than  the  captain's  attentions." 

Lucy  drew  in  a  sharp  breath.  "  They  wouldn't 
really  have  hurt  you  —  badly?  " 

"  Judge  for  yourself,"  said  Thorpe.  "  In  a 
crowded  cafe  the  other  evening  a  workman  hap- 
pened to  jog  the  elbow  of  an  officer.  The  officer 
drew  his  sword  and  deliberately  killed  the  unfor- 
tunate fellow  in  cold  blood.  His  defense  before 
court  martial  was  that  his  dignity  had  been 
affronted.  He  was  sentenced  to  a  month  or 
so  of  confinement  to  his  own  quarters." 

"  For  a  murder  like  that!  " 

"  Many  officers  consider  the  punishment  un- 
duly harsh.  They  would  have  rewarded  him  for 
enforcing  due  respect  to  their  rank." 

Lucy  could  not  restrain  her  indignation.  "  I 
must  say,  if  Mr.  von  Kissel  is  at  all  like  that  —  ' ' 

"  What!  Kurt?  He  wouldn't  hurt  a  fly,  nor 
even  the  feelings  of  a  Frenchman,"  asserted 


36  The  Blond  Beast 

Thorpe.  "  He  was  quite  at  home  in  America," 
The  frown  left  Lucy's  broad  forehead.  She 
listened  smilingly  to  her  companion's  praises 
of  the  Von  Kissels,  while  the  car  purred  rapidly 
out  along  the  broad  avenues. 


CHAPTER  IV 
PLAYS  FOE  POSITION 

The  modest  Von  Kissel  mansion  stood  well 
back  in  its  grounds,  massed  about  with  the  old- 
fashioned  June  flowers  of  a  German  home  gar- 
den. Thorpe  was  pleased  when  he  saw  no 
coupes  or  sedans  in  the  drive,  and  no  approach- 
ing bevies  of  fraus  and  frauleins.  He  and  Lucy 
were  first  to  arrive  at  the  reception. 

At  the  door  Lucy  dropped  her  free-and-easy 
manner  to  assume  the  formal  haughty  carriage 
with  which  she  expected  to  be  met.  The  arro- 
gance of  the  Prussian  officers  had  colored  her 
anticipations  of  the  deportment  of  German  host- 
esses. 

There  was  a  delay  at  the  entrance  that  an- 
noyed her  and  confirmed  these  unpleasant  expec- 
tations. Thorpe  rang  a  second  time.  Then  the 
door  opened  with  a  hospitable  sweep,  and  before 
the  guests  appeared,  not  the  butler  or  liveried 
footman  for  whom  Lucy  looked,  but  a  radiant 
angelic  vision  of  blond  loveliness. 

The  vision  blushed  deliciously  as  she  greeted 
"  Herr  Thorpe  "  with  the  meek  deference  due 
to  a  male  guest.  Her  manner  was  so  artless 
and  her  dress  so  simple  that  Lucy  might  have 
mistaken  her  for  a  Cinderella  maid-servant,  had 

37 


38  The  Blond  Beast 

not  Thorpe  hastened  to  stammer  out  an  intro- 
duction. 

For  a  moment  Lucy's  hauteur  became  more 
intense.  But  the  sweetness  and  innocence  of  the 
younger  girl  were  irresistible.  Though  Lucy's 
eyes  clouded  as  she  perceived  the  look  with  which 
Thorpe  was  regarding  Fraulein  von  Kissel,  she 
smiled  and  clasped  the  plump  white  hand  of  the 
welcomer. 

"  So  you  are  Gold  Elsie,"  she  said.  "  I  know 
all  about  you.  I  met  your  brother  in  America." 

Elsa  beamed  with  artless  delight.  "  Ach! 
That  Kurt  remembers  Miss  Carew  is  not  to  be 
wondered  —  is  it,  Herr  Thorpe?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  admitted  Thorpe.  "  But  she  must 
not  flatter  herself  that  she  is  the  only  fraulein 
easy  to  remember." 

Though  the  German  girl's  extreme  unsophis- 
tication  might  have  been  puzzled  by  the  words, 
the  look  in  Thorpe's  eyes  was  unmistakable.  She 
blushed  more  delectably  than  before.  But  inbred 
hospitality  enabled  her  to  overcome  the  confu- 
sion of  embarrassment.  She  courtesied  the 
guests  into  a  parlor  whose  old  mahogany  fur- 
niture was  as  satisfying  to  an  artistic  eye  as 
was  the  rich  mellow- toned  decorations. 

Thorpe  received  the  first  invitation  to  be 
seated.  He  insisted  upon  choosing  a  plain  chair. 
The  slightly  flustered  fraulein  then  led  Lucy 
across  to  the  small  sofa  at  the  head  of  the  room. 
As  the  visitor  sat  down,  she  made  a  gesture 
that  invited  the  young  hostess  to  share  the  sofa. 
Fraulein  Elsa's  eyes  rounded  at  the  suggestion 
of  two  occupying  the  seat  of  honor.  Such  a 


Plays  for  Position  39 

breach   of   etiquette   would   be   most   improper. 

"  Mother  is  helping  Grethel  with  the  cakes," 
she  informed  Thorpe.  "  Such  a  stupid  girl  we 
now  have!  I  shall  ask  your  pardon  that  I  may 
take  Mother's  place,  for  her  to  welcome  you." 

Thorpe  ventured  a  bold  move  that  brought 
him  first  to  the  rear  door.  He  blocked  it  to  the 
scarlet-cheeked  girl. 

"  Stay  and  visit  with  Miss  Carew,  fraulein," 
he  urged.  "  I  shall  tell  the  mother  of  our 
arrival.  The  kitchen  latch  is  used  to  my  hand." 

He  disappeared  without  waiting  for  a  reply. 
The  fraulein  gazed  around  at  Lucy,  her  big  blue 
eyes  violet  with  indecision. 

"  Don't  mind  him,"  reassured  the  American 
girl.  "  It's  just  our  Yankee  brashness.  From 
what  he  told  me,  I  gather  he  is  quite  at  home 
with  your  mother  and  brother." 

"  Ja,  he  is  Kurt's  beloved  friend,"  murmured 
Elsa.  She  blushed  as  she  spoke,  and  hastened 
back  to  her  guest,  radiant  with  child-like  admira- 
tion. 

"  Ach,  fraulein,  you  are  most  lovely — such  ex- 
quisiteness  and  style!  I  feel  I  shall  be  greatly 
fond  of  you.  Is  it  not  strange?  I  have  met  not 
many  Americans,  and  they  all  are — what  do  you 
say?  —  most  nice.  In  our  school  we  are  taught 
that  Americans  are  red  Indians  —  those  who  are 
not  Deutsch.  But  Kurt  says  there  are  many 
others.  He  told  me  about  you.  I  wondered  he 
could  admire  a  fraulein  not  Deutsch.  Now  I 
do  not  wonder." 

Lucy  wavered.  To  cherish  resentment  against 
this  innocent  child  was  all  but  impossible. 


40  The  Blond  Beast 

11  My  dear,"  she  replied,  "  I,  for  my  part,  no 
longer  wonder  that  Lan  Thorpe  believes  angels 
are  golden-haired.  He  would  be  even  more  de- 
lighted than  I  am,  if  you  would  say  to  him  what 
you  have  to  me— -  about  fondness." 

Elsa's  blue  eyes  sank,  and  a  deep  blush  swept 
from  her  white  forehead  down  across  her  coral 
cheeks  to  her  milky  throat. 

"  At  —  at  our  school, ' '  she  faltered,  ' '  we  are 
taught  not  to  —  talk  about  men.  Besides  —  it  is 
for  parents  and  elders  to  choose." 

There  was  no  need  for  the  verbal  confidences 
that  decorum  forbade  the  girl  to  speak.  Her 
blush  had  all  too  clearly  confessed  her  feelings. 
The  rose  faded  from  Lucy's  cheeks,  leaving  them 
almost  sallow.  Her  eyes  darkened.  Yet  after 
a  long  moment  of  tension,  her  lips  curved  in  a 
smile  that  held  no  trace  of  bitterness. 

"  I  can't  blame  Lan.  You're  sweet  enough  to 
eat." 

She  sighed,  rallied,  and  impulsively  sprang  up 
to  pat  the  pink  and  white  cheek  of  the  adorable 
maiden.  Though  a  full  hand's-breadth  the 
shorter,  she  had  the  appearance  of  smiling  down 
upon  the  younger  girl. 

"I'm  sure  we  shall  be  friends,"  she  declared. 
"  Sit  down.  We'll  leave  out  the  men,  and  have 
a  good  gabble  about  dresses." 

Too  fascinated  to  resist,  Elsa  yielded  to  the 
clasp  that  drew  her  down  upon  the  sofa  beside 
her  new  friend. 

Thorpe  had  already  reached  the  kitchen.  He 
found  motherly  Frau  von  Kissel  in  the  midst 
of  the  glazed  tile-work  and  polished  metal,  direct- 


Plays  for  Position  41 

ing  every  movement  of  the  stupid  Grethel.  Her 
capable  hands  were  no  less  busily  engaged  in 
actual  preparation  of  the  reception  refreshments. 

"  Mein  lieber  Allant,  for  you  to  come  at  such 
a  time !  ' '  she  remonstrated.  ' '  You  have  brought 
the  fraulein,  your  friend,  already,  nicht?  —  Be- 
ware the  flour  on  the  table." 

The  maid  servant  understood  no  English. 
Thorpe  smiled  cheerfully  at  his  h^at-flushed 
hostess,  and  replied  with  frank  directness: 

11  I  thought  the  frauleins  would  sooner  become 
acquainted  if  I  left  them  alone,  Tante.  You  will 
like  Miss  Carew.  She  has  two  or  three  million 
dollars  for  dot  —  over  ten  million  marks  —  and 
she  remembers  Kurt." 

Frau  von  Kissel  paused  with  a  pan  of  cakes 
half  out  of  the  oven.  "  She  remembers?  " 

"  Favorably. .  .And  Elsa  says  he  remembers 
her.  I  introduced  them  in  America,  you  know." 

The  good  frau  waited  until  she  had  the  cakes 
safe  on  the  table. 

' '  Allant,  you  are  a  true  friend . . .  Yet  the  frau- 
lein —  she  is  not  high-born  and  she  is  foreign. ' ' 

"  No  more  than  I  am.  Have  you  found  me  so 
outlandish?  " 

"  Ach,  a  friend,  he  is  different.  To  take  a 
foreigner  into  my  family,  that  is  not  the  same  at 
all." 

The  well-meant  differentiation  brought  Thorpe 
up  with  a  jar.  Sincerely  as  the  good  frau  had 
mothered  him,  he  was  forced  to  sudden  realiza- 
tion of  the  stony  barriers  of  caste  and  race 
behind  the  ivy  of  her  kindness.  But  barriers 
have  been  battered  down,  and  he  was  deeply  in 


42  The  Blond  Beast 

love  with  Elsa.  He  made  a  masked  move  in 
flank. 

'  *  Oh,  of  course,  if  you  feel  that  way,  Tante . . . 
Still,  you'll  enjoy  Miss  Carew's  acquaintance,  I 
know.  She  has  beauty  and  charm  as  well  as 
money.  I  thought  I'd  speak  to  you  before 
one  of  the  titled  officers  snaps  her  up.  These 
international  marriages  are  becoming  quite  the 
custom. ' ' 

Frau  von  Kissel  nodded  with  indignant  em- 
phasis. 

"  Ja,  it  is  a  shame!  The  high-born  spend- 
thrifts must  have  foreign  heiresses  to  pay  off 
their  gambling  debts.  They  are  not  content  with 
Deutsch  frauleins  who  have  not  so  large  dots. 
Most  different  it  would  be  for  Elsa  if  my  rich 
bachelor  cousin  should  die.  He  owns  much 
Krupp  stock,  and  he  has  promised  half  his 
fortune  to  each  of  my  children." 

Thorpe  did  not  miss  his  opportunity.  "  In 
America  a  fraulein  is  not  required  to  have  a 
dot.  If  she  possesses  beauty  and  charm,  no 
more  is  expected." 

* '  What  foolishness !  In  America,  you  have 
told  me,  undutiful  children  marry  to  please  them- 
selves. In  Deutschland  the  wedding  is  as  the 
parents  wish." 

"  I  know  you  will  do  your  best  to  make  your 
children  happy,  dear  Tante,"  soothed  Thorpe. 
tt  There  are  sons  and  daughters  of  rich  mer- 
chants who  desire  marriage  with  aristocratic 
families.  Only,  as  you  have  often  remarked,  the 
trouble  with  them  is  that  Germans  of  the  lower 
classes  are  always  unmistakable;  but  the  Amer- 


Plays  for  Position  43 

ican  wives   of  the  high-born  soon  acquire   the 
manners  of  nobility." 

This  was  a  shot  out  of  her  own  locker.  The 
good  frau  gave  Grethel  explicit  directions  for 
serving  the  refreshments,  dusted  the  flour  from 
her  fingers,  unfastened  her  voluminous  kitchen 
apron,  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Ach,  himmel!  It  is  the  truth  you  tell,  Al- 
lant.  In  the  Fatherland  people  are  born  low  or 
high,  and  they  cannot  be  changed  by  marriage. 
We  require  deference  from  our  inferiors,  and 
we  give  honor  to  those  above  us,  with  our  God- 
appointed  Kaiser  ruling  high  over  all." 

"  Yet  when  your  sons  do  marry  outside  their 
caste,  American  heiresses  seem  to  make  the 
most  satisfactory  wives,"  thrust  Thorpe.  "  How- 
ever, you  need  have  no  fear  for  Kurt.  Miss 
Carew  expects  offers  of  titles.  She  will  be  able 
to  pick  and  choose.  It  was  only  that  I  thought 
Kurt  might  possibly  win  her,  with  your  help, 
if  he  should  be  quick  to  grasp  his  opportunity. 
But  since  you  do  not  wish  him  to  marry  an 
American,  all  you  need  do  is  to  introduce  her 
to  young  men  of  title.  From  her  point  of  view, 
a  count  or  a  baron  would  of  course  be  much 
more  eligible  than  Kurt." 

Frau  von  Kissel  paused  beside  the  door,  which 
Thorpe  had  opened  for  her  with  a  courtesy  that 
few  German  men  would  have  extended  to  any 
other  than  youth  and  beauty. 

"  Such  over-politeness,  Allant,"  she  chided. 
* '  Do  not,  I  beg  you.  It  is  too  French-like . . . 
About  your  friend,  we  shall  see.  I  do  not 
admit  that  any  foreign  fraulein  is  too  good  for 


44  The  Blond  Beast 

Lieutenant  von  Kissel  of  the  Imperial  Guard. " 

"  She'd  be  the  last  to  claim  it,  Tante.  But  if 
she  can  make  a  far  better  match,  can  you  blame 
her?  " 

Satisfied  by  the  thoughtful  puckering  of  the 
mother's  severe  lips,  Thorpe  inquired  about 
Elsa's  graduation  in  as  casual  a  tone  as  he 
could  effect.  The  reply  was  all  too  brief  and 
meagre.  In  Germany  the  affairs  of  a  son  are 
vastly  more  important  than  those  of  a  daugh- 
ter. Thorpe  had  succeeded  only  too  well  in  fix- 
ing the  mind  of  Frau  von  Kissel  upon  the  for- 
eign f raulein.  This  worked  in  his  favor,  however, 
when  they  reached  the  parlor. 

Lucy  and  Elsa  were  seated  side  by  side  on 
the  state  sofa,  chatting  with  the  intimacy  of  old 
friends.  Elsa  sprang  up,  shocked  at  the  realiza- 
tion of  her  incorrect  behavior,  while  Lucy  stif- 
fened to  hauteur  under  the  severe  eye  of  the 
hostess.  But  when  formally  presented  by 
Thorpe,  she  met  the  buxom  matron's  greeting 
with  tactful  graciousness.  Even  more  tactfully 
she  caught  at  the  frauds  mention  of  kitchen  and 
household  duties. 

An  inquiry  regarding  a  picture  enabled 
Thorpe  to  maneuver  Elsa  to  the  far  corner  of 
the  parlor.  No  little  skill  was  required  to  ac- 
complish this.  A  single  ardent  word  or  look 
would  have  alarmed  the  girl's  modesty  and  sent 
her  edging  back  to  shelter  beside  her  mother. 
But  Thorpe  was  not  a  Continental  lover.  He 
knew  that  the  way  to  win  the  confidence  of  a  shy 
youngster  is  to  divert  attention  from  personal 
topics.  At  nineteen  Elsa  was  still  an  unsophis- 


Plays  for  Position  45 

ticated    child,    naive    and    free    from    artifice. 

The  American's  matter-of-fact  manner  and 
genuine  interest  in  her  brother  soon  overcame 
the  girl's  constraint.  To  her  wonderment,  she 
found  him  almost  as  easy  to  talk  to  as  Miss 
Carew.  He  quoted  approvingly  many  of  Kurt's 
views  on  the  army  and  navy  and  the  management 
of  estates;  he  extolled  German  music  and  sci- 
ence; he  pointed  out  the  surprising  truth  that 
cooking  was  a  domestic  form  of  chemistry  and 
hardly  less  important.  By  a  strange  and  de- 
lightful coincidence  of  tastes,  he  happened  to 
be  most  fond  of  the  flowers  that  she  mentioned 
as  her  favorites.  Close  beside  her  in  the  niche 
of  the  corner  window,  he  gazed  out  at  the  masses 
of  bloom  in  the  garden  and  expressed  his  esthetic 
pleasure.  She  readily  agreed  to  do  a  bit  of  bot- 
anizing with  him  at  the  first  opportunity. 

The  ring  of  the  doorbell  interrupted  their  de- 
lightful tete-a-tete.  Though  Thorpe  was  more 
than  annoyed,  he  found  consolation  in  the  candid 
disappointment  that  clouded  Elsa's  lovely  eyes 
as  she  rose  to  leave  him. 

The  neighbor's  servant,  borrowed  for  the  occa- 
sion to  attend  the  door,  had  not  yet  come  up 
from  the  kitchen.  Elsa  hastened  to  admit  and 
welcome  the  first  of  the  reception  callers,  Prau 
Herr  Upper  -  Director  -  of  -  Posts  -  and  -  Dispatches 
Hegelbaum. 

Frau  von  Kissel  broke  off  the  conversation 
with  Lucy  Carew  that  had  rendered  her  oblivious 
to  Elsa  and  Thorpe.  She  sprang  up  to  greet 
the  new  caller.  Lucy  had  not  been  so  engrossed. 
Her  veiled  glance  had  more  than  once  found  its 


46  The  Blond  Beast 

way  past  the  amplitude  of  her  hostess  to  the 
smiling  couple  in  the  corner  window.  Left  alone, 
she  settled  back  on  the  state  sofa,  a  picture  of 
serene  composure. 

Thorpe  perceived  only  the  outward  insoucience 
of  his  countrywoman.  A  smile  of  gleeful  antici- 
pation lightened  the  gloom  of  his  frown.  He  had 
not  long  to  wait.  With  the  firmness  of  a  grena- 
dier, Frau  von  Kissel  took  Lucy's  arm  and  drew 
the  surprised  girl  up  from  the  sofa.  Frau  Herr 
Upper  -Director  -  of-Posts  -  and-Dispatches  Hegel- 
baum  was  then  ensconced  on  the  throne  of  honor. 

Her  reign  was  brief.  Next  to  arrive  at  the  re- 
ception was  Elsa's  godmother,  the  old  Baroness 
von  Schlagel-Eisenen.  Frau  Upper-Director 
promptly  abdicated  in  favor  of  her  superior  in 
rank.  The  borrowed  servant  girl  now  took  Elsa's 
place  at  the  door.  But  the  change  proved  of  no 
benefit  to  Thorpe.  After  the  baroness  the  female 
guests  followed  in  flocks.  The  blushing  daugH- 
ter  of  the'  house  was  required  to  stand  fast 
beside  her  mother  and  return  thanks  for  the 
congratulations  and  gifts  brought  by  her  well- 
wishers. 

Aside  from  the  state  sofa,  however,  there  was 
nothing  formal  about  the  reception.  Hostess  and 
guests  gave  themselves  over  to  general  talk  and 
laughter.  Lucy  was  presented  to  the  fraus  and 
introduced  to  the  frauleins.  Whenever  the  other 
guests  understood  that  she  was  not  English  but 
American,  her  inability  to  speak  German  met 
with  good-natured  tolerance. 

She  drifted  around  to  where  Thorpe  was  ex- 
changing dignified  greetings  with  various  fraus 


Plays  for  Position  47 

of  his  acquaintance.  A  question  about  the  gar- 
den drew  him  away  from  them  into  the  niche 
of  the  window  beside  her.  He  could  not  see 
her  lowered  eyes,  but  her  red  lips  were  parted 
in  a  smile  of  ironical  amusement. 

"  Two  was  company. .  .After  that  the  deluge," 
she  said.  "  You  must  feel  lost  in  the  flood  of 
hens  and  chickens." 

"  Help  is  near,"  he  predicted  with  the  assur- 
ance of  experience.  "  The  other  men  will  soon 
arrive.  It's  about  time  for  the  refreshments... 
You  seem  to  make  a  hit  with  Tante  von  Kissel. 
How  about  the  tour?  " 

Lucy's    smile  became   a  trifle  more   ironical. 
"No   wonder   you're   impatient.     The   child   is, 
sweet  enough  to  eat." 

"  Child?     She's  over  nineteen." 

"  Nineteen  months.  She  makes  me  think  of  a 
duckling  just  out  of  the  shell  —  or  a  downy  baby 
swan,  if  that's  more  poetical  to  you." 

Thorpe  winced.  "  Don't,  Loo.  You've  agreed 
to  be  chums  again.  Stand  by  me.  I  —  I  love 
Elsa.  I've  got  to  win  her... and  I'm  afraid  I 
can't  without  your  help." 

Lucy  faced  away  to  gaze  out  into  the  garden, 
her  smile  fading. 

"  Is  it  as  bad  as  that  —  really?  "  she  bantered 
as  she  turned  to  meet  his  anxious  gaze,  cool- 
eyed  and  smiling.  "  Buck  up,  old  fellow,  I  al- 
ready have  Mama  Kissel  feeding  out  of  my 
hand.  You  needn't  fancy,  though,  I'll  invite 
the  family  for  my  tour  until  I've  had  another 
look  at  Herr  Lieutenant  Kurt." 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  HIGH-BOBN  COUNT 

Elderly  and  middle-aged  men  who  had  com- 
pleted their  official  duties  for  the  day  began  to 
arrive.  Lucy's  brows  lifted  as  she  saw  how 
fraus  and  frauleins  hastened  to  give  up  the  best 
seats  to  the  male  guests. 

Afternoon  tea  was  now  served,  a  bevy  of 
Elsa's  young  friends  helping  her  hand  around 
the  cups,  together  with  generous  platefuls  of 
rusks  and  little  cakes.  Thorpe  mildly  scandal- 
ized the  company  by  waiting  upon  himself  and 
Lucy.  When,  with  well-loaded  plates,  he  came 
coasting  back  to  their  inset  window,  he  found 
her  gazing  demurely  across  the  room.  The  ob- 
ject was  a  handsome  young  officer  unmistakably 
like  Elsa. 

"  Yes,  you've  spotted  him  —  that's  Kurt,"  ral- 
lied Thorpe. 

Attracted  by  his  beckoning  gesture,  the  son 
of  the  house  glimpsed  Lucy  and  hastened  to 
make  his  way  through  the  crowd.  His  popularity 
was  evident  from  the  number  of  friends  —  herrs, 
fraus  and  frauleins  —  who  sought  to  detain  him. 
With  polite  excuses,  he  passed  all  by  and  sprang 
around  the  last  group  to  clasp  Lucy's  hand  in  a 
hearty  American  grip. 

48 


The  High-Born  Count  49 


<  t 


Miss  Carew  —  you  here?  '  he  exclaimed. 
"  This  is  a  very  happy  surprise!  " 

"  Indeed,  yes,"  she  replied,  a  shade  less  cor- 
dially than  Thorpe  could  have  wished.  "Lan  is 
to  blame  for  it.  I  broke  some  verbotens  getting 
to  Berlin  and  had  to  call  upon  him  to  save  me 
from  jail  and  the  gallows  —  I  should  say,  the 
headsman's  ax.  You  Germans  still  chop  off  per- 
sons' heads>  I  hear." 

"A  misunderstanding,  Kurt  —  all  settled," 
Thorpe  quieted  the  deep  concern  of  his  friend. 
"  Miss  Carew  used  her  kodak  at  Essen.  But  I 
think  the  police  are  satisfied." 

The  young  officer  smiled,  and  his  mild  eyes 
sparkled. 

"  That's  the  stuff,  Allan!  Good  move  bring- 
ing her  to  meet  my  mother.  —  How  long  do  you 
plan  to  stay  in  Berlin,  Miss  Carew?  You  must 
be  our  guest  until  you  leave.  If  the  city  bores 
you,  we  shall  go  to  the  old  castle  until  cool 
weather.  You  can  then  have  the  autumn  in  town 
with  us,  and  at  Christmas —  " 

Lucy  burst  into  her  amused  laugh. 

"  I've  heard  of  German  hospitality,  Mr.  von 
Kissel,  but  you  exceed  even  your  mother.  She 
has  invited  me  for  the  summer." 

"  The  kind  mother!  She  has  arranged  it? 
You  will  be  with  us?  " 

"I'll  have  to  consider.  My  plans  were  made 
for  a  tour,"  replied  the  girl,  her  gaiety  sobering 
as  she  glanced  past  her  eager  young  host  to 
where  Thorpe  was  turning  on  her  his  athletic 
though  unmilitary  back. 

Elsa  was  approaching,  all  a-flutter  with  joyous 


50  The  Blond  Beast 

excitement.  No  less  a  personage  than  General 
von  Hausen,  Chief  of  Staff  to  the  Duke  of  Wurt- 
temburg,  had  come  with  Baron  von  Schlagel- 
Eisenen  to  her  reception.  He  was  asking  for  her 
lieutenant  brother.  Kurt  clicked  his  heels  for 
an  abrupt  bow  to  Lucy,  and  hastened  off  under 
the  guidance  of  his  sister. 

"  That's  the  military  of  it,"  remarked  Thorpe. 
"  The  duke's  army  is  quite  distinct  from  that 
of  Prussia,  yet  you  see  how  Kurt  jumped  at  the 
mere  mention  of  an  officer  of  the  High  Command. 
It's  a  pity  that  one  of  his  gentle  spirit  has  to 
be  a  cog  in  a  war-machine." 

'  'But  think  of  the  gorgeous  uniforms," 
mocked  the  American  girl.  "  They  make  our 
men  look  like  waiters." 

Thorpe  spoke  up  for  his  friend  with  loyal  en- 
thusiasm : 

"  There's  no  one  better  entitled  to  fine  feath- 
ers than  Kurt.  He's  a  splendid  fellow,  clean 
and  true  and  manly.  Even  Captain  von  Papp- 
heim  voted  for  him  when,  as  is  the  custom,  the 
officers  of  his  regiment  decided  whether  he  should 
become  one  of  its  lieutenants." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  nice  enough;  but  you  might  say 
as  much  for  yourself,  if  you  weren't  so  modest. 
The  point  is,  there  must  be  others  with  titles 
and  higher  rank,  and  if  I'm  to  get  value  received 
for  my  Yankee  dollars,  why,  a  mere  second  lieu- 
tenant —  ' ' 

The  sudden  break  in  the  girl's  ironical  banter 
and  a  slight  narrowing  of  her  eyes  sent  Thorpe's 
glance  darting  across  the  room.  Midway  from 
the  door  was  the  tall  Prussian  captain  who  had 


The  High-Born  Count  51 

knocked  Lucy  into  the  gutter.  He  stood  twirl- 
ing an  end  of  his  up-crooked  mustache,  his  steel- 
blue  eyes  fixed  upon  the  American  fraulein  in  a 
stare  of  cool  assurance.  The  look  expressed  his 
conviction  that  ample  time  had  elapsed  for  her 
to  have  realized  the  unseemliness  of  that  penny 
outrage  on  his  dignity. 

Frau  von  Kissel  was  deferentially  introducing 
the  newly  arrived  guest  to  her  meek  and  shrink- 
ing daughter.  Thorpe  frowned.  For  Elsa  even 
to  meet  an  officer  of  such  insolence  seemed  to 
him  little  short  of  desecration.  The  captain  paid 
slight  heed  to  his  hostess  and  scarcely  more  to 
the  lovely  daughter  of  the  house.  After  a  per- 
functory compliment  to  Elsa,  he  checked  the 
effusive  remarks  of  her  mother  with  a  brusque 
inquiry  about  her  American  guests. 

Elsa  slipped  away  unobserved,  her  artless  face 
disclosing  to  Thorpe's  intent  gaze  how  relieved 
she  was  to  escape.  Frau  von  Kissel  hastened 
forward  with  her  high-born  guest.  She  pre- 
sented the  heart's  friend  of  her  beloved  Kurt  to 
Herr  Captain,  Count  Wolf  von  Pappheim.  The 
stiffness  of  the  bows  exchanged  by  the  men  was 
unnoticed  by  their  hostess.  She  was  gazing  per- 
plexedly at  the  deliberately  turned  back  of  the 
American  girl. 

1  i  Fraulein, ' '  she  remonstrated  —  * '  Mees  Ca- 
rew,  the  will  of  Herr  Captain —  " 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I'm  not  a  German  girl,  Frau 
von  Kissel,"  interrupted  Lucy.  "  I  must  decline 
to  meet  that  man.  He  knows  why." 

The  captain  leaned  towards  Thorpe,  and 
peered  at  him  menacingly. 


52  The  Blond  Beast 

"  You  will  advise  the  miss,   n'est-ce  pas?  " 

That  big  high-curved  Prussian  nose  was  most 
tempting.  Thorpe's  fingers  crooked. — Sanity 
and  breeding  enabled  him  to  resist  the  impulse. 
The  apprehensive  glance  that  Lucy  turned  upon 
him  was  reassured  by  the  quiet  smile  with  which 
he  met  the  threat. 

"  If  that  is  meant  as  a  challenge,  Herr  Count," 
he  remarked,  "  the  pleasure  is  mine  of  naming 
machine-guns  at  five  paces. " 

The  captain  blinked.  Was  the  American  tri- 
fling, or  was  he  in  deadly  earnest.  His  smile 
might  be  taken  either  way.  The  one  certainty 
was  that  he  betrayed  no  trace  of  intimidation. — 
To  draw  one's  sabre  at  a  reception  is  not  good 
form,  even  for  a  taunted  officer. 

Count  Wolf  von  Pappheim  favored  his  hostess 
with  the  full  view  of  his  purple-scarred  face. 

11  The  fraulein  is  newly  arrived,  nicht?  She 
does  not  understand  our  customs.  Because, 
through  ignorance,  she  is  offended,  I  am  willing 
that  you  present  to  her  my  apologies." 

Lucy  also  addressed  the  flustered  frau:  "  Be 
so  kind  as  to  reply  that  there  are  offenses  for 
which  apologies  are  not  acceptable." 

The  Prussian's  face  flamed  scarlet;  his  close- 
cropped  tow  hair  bristled . . .  But,  immediately 
upon  his  arrival  at  the  reception,  envious  tongues 
had  clacked  into  his  ear  exaggerated  accounts  of 
the  American  heiress's  fortune.  He  had  already 
seen  on  the  street  that  her  face  and  form  were 
enravishing.  To  one  surfeited  with  flaxen 
blondes,  there  was  a  double  fascination  in  the 
foreign  fraulein 's  richly  tinted  skin  and  copper 


The  High-Born  Count  53 

red  hair.  No  less  fascinating  was  the  exquisite 
charm  of  her  costume  in  the  roomful  of  large, 
ill-dressed  German  ladies. 

Herr  Captain,  Count  Wolf  von  Pappheim,  vis- 
ibly checked  himself  on  the  verge  of  angry  de- 
nunciation. He  clicked  his  heels  and  bowed  low 
to  the  obdurate  fraulein. 

"  I  beg  to  offer  my  profound  apologies.  The 
collision  was  unpremeditated  —  an  accident  —  I 
give  my  word.  Afterwards  I  misthought  the 
fraulein  to  be  English.  Pardon  the  error  and 
accept,  I  beg  you,  my  most  humble  apologies." 

Thorpe  was  almost  as  astonished  as  Frau 
von  Kissel.  He  knew  how  men  of  the  count's 
stamp  looked  down  upon  lauies  even  of  their 
own  caste.  Lucy  neither  knew  nor  cared.  She 
took  the  aristocrat's  self-humiliation  as  coolly 
as  if  he  had  been  a  young  business  clerk  of 
her  home  town.  His  behavior  had  been  abom- 
inable..  .However,  he  had  pleaded  difference  of 
custom  and  he  had  made  a  real  apology. 

1 1  If  you  wish,  Frau  von  Kissel,  you  may  intro- 
duce him,"  she  granted  her  permission  with  an 
air  of  condescension  that  brought  a  deeper  flush 
into  the  count's  face. 

Thorpe's  expression  remained  impeccably  so- 
ber. Lucy  alone  caught  the  momentary  twinkle 
in  his  eyes.  The  count  was  bending  to  her  in  a 
bow  meant  to  convey  an  impression  of  grateful- 
ness. As  he  unbent  he  flashed  at  Thorpe  a 
glance  like  a  rapier  stab.  The  American's  eyes 
did  not  again  twinkle. 

Lucy  perceived  this.  She  also  perceived  the 
concern  of  Frau  von  Kissel  and  its  cause.  With 


54  The  Blond  Beast 

a  few  pleasant  words  she  relieved  her  hostess  by 
putting  the  embarrassed  officer  at  his  ease.  The 
good  frau  bustled  off,  beaming  her  gratification. 
The  scandal  of  a  scene  had  been  averted,  and 
the  herr  count's  anger  was  appeased. 

As  Von  Pappheim  opened  a  rather  heavily 
gallant  conversation  with  his  charming  conquer- 
ess,  Thorpe  looked  about  him  with  the  intention 
of  joining  Elsa,  Before  he  could  leave  the  cor- 
ner, Lucy  deftly  prevented  his  escape  by  a  re- 
mark that  brought  him  into  a  trio  with  her  and 
the  displeased  count,  and  so  rounded  out  her 
triumph.  Her  skill  forced  the  Prussian  into  a 
pretense  of  courteousness  to  the  unwelcome  for- 
eign civilian.  At  the  same  time  she  goaded  him 
to  rivalry  by  the  friendly  intimacy  of  her  banter 
with  Thorpe. 

The  return  of  Kurt,  boyishly  eager  to  share 
Miss  Carew's  company,  gave  Thorpe  his  oppor- 
tunity to  slip  away.  He  presumed  that  the  son 
of  the  house  would  serve  as  well  as  himself  for 
Lucy's  purpose  and  might  be  more  interesting  to 
her,  if  not  to  Von  Pappheim. 

But  as  Thorpe  started  to  leave,  he  was  again 
brought  to  a  halt,  this  time  by  a  teasing  remark 
from  Lucy  to  the  gallant  captain.  In  true  Prus- 
sian style,  Von  Pappheim  had  been  vaunting 
the  superiority  of  German  governmental  effi- 
ciency. Heedless  of  the  consequences  to  herself, 
Lucy  was  puncturing  the  national  conceit  with 
the  taunt  of  how  she  had  duped  the  secret  serv- 
ice agents. 

Thorpe  cut  in  and  sought  to  check  the  disclo- 
sure at  the  point  where  the  girl  told  about  the 


The  High-Born  Count  55 

apparent  destruction  of  the  film.  Lucy  either 
could  not  or  would  not  perceive  his  warning 
hints.  She  went  on  to  relate  in  full  detail  how 
she  had  obliterated  the  substituted  film  and  made 
sure  of  her  Krupp  pictures  by  dropping  them 
into  the  embassy  dispatch-pouch.  Thorpe's  at- 
tempts to  silence  her  made  him  appear  to  be 
the  consciously  guilty  accomplice  of  her  act  of 
espionage. 

He  affected  to  make  light  of  the  affair  — 

"  You  see  how  little  we  know  about  such  mat- 
ters in  America,  Captain.  Miss  Carew  still  thinks 
she  has  played  a  gay  joke  on  your  police.  She 
doesn't  realize  you'll  have  her  court-martialed, 
and  shot  at  sunrise  for  the  high  crime  of  Use 
majeste." 

Kurt  von  Kissel's  cheeks  had  lost  their  girlish 
rosiness.  There  was  unmistakable  dread  in  the 
look  that  he  turned  upon  his  senior  officer.  Von 
Pappheim  was  still  regarding  Lucy  with  utmost 
gallantry.  Though  his  hard  eyes  had  narrowed 
ever  so  slightly  when  she  thrust  at  him  how 
she  had  outwitted  the  Imperial  police,  he  uttered 
no  word  of  denunciation  as  Kurt  and  Thorpe 
both  expected.  On  the  contrary,  he  met  Thorpe 's 
sally  with  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Ach!  So  clever  a  little  teaser!  "  he  flung 
at  Lucy  in  a  half  rueful,  half  gallant  tone.  "  It 
is  well  you  are  not  a  Russian  or  French  or  Eng- 
lish fraulein.  That  would  mean  a  sad  duty  for 
your  most  ardent  admirer  to  perform.  But  be- 
cause you  are  American,  it  is  certain  your  act 
was  due  only  to  innocent  playfulness,  n'est-ce 
pas?  " 


56  The  Blond  Beast 

Lucy  accepted  the  assurance  with  careless  in- 
difference. Not  so  Kurt  von  Kissel.  He  bent 
close  to  her,  his  eyes  still  dark  with  anxiety. 

"  Will  you  not  write  an  order,  Miss  Carew,  for 
the  film  to  be  delivered  in  Paris  to  the  German 
embassy?  That  would  clear  you  entirely." 

"  But  it's  so  utterly  silly  for  anyone  to  try  to 
make  me  out  a  spy,"  said  Lucy.  "  Count  von 
Pappheim  understands.  I  gave  those  impertinent 
detectives  what  they  deserved.  Had  they  acted 
like  gentlemen,  I'd  have  handed  over  the  pic- 
tures. Now  I  shall  keep  every  one." 

«  Good  —  most  good,  fraulein.  Your  spirit 
has  my  high  esteem,"  approved  Von  Pappheim. 
"  Hold  fast  to  what  is  yours.  There  need  be 
nothing  more  said  about  the  views.  May  I  re- 
quest permission  to  call  at  your  hotel?  ' 

The  adroit  move  was  met  no  less  skillfully  — 

"It  is  kind  of  you  to  ask,  Captain.  Only  I 
shall  have  no  hotel.  Mrs.  von  Kissel  has  invited 
me  for  a  visit." 

"  Most  delightful,"  said  the  count,  with  a 
flatness  of  tone  that  belied  the  words.  '  The 
pleasure  shall  be  mine  of  calling  often  at  the 
home  of  my  esteemed  young  friend  Von  Kissel." 

Kurt  acknowledged  this  piece  of  condescension 
with  the  required  phrases  of  hospitality.  Fol- 
lowed a  clicking  of  heels,  a  salute,  the  gallant 
kissing  of  Lucy's  hand  by  the  count,  and  his 
withdrawal  into  the  throng  of  departing  guests. 

Left  alone  a  brief  period  with  Lucy,  Thorpe 
went  at  her  with  brotherly  brusqueness: 

"  Good  Lord,  Loo;  have  you  gone  clean  dotty? 
It  was  bad  enough,  your  snapping  those  views. 


The  High-Born  Count  57 

But  to  go  and  tattle  on  yourself  to  a  man  like 
Pappheim!  These  officers  are  taught  to  worship 
the  State.  He's  the  kind  to  put  the  worst  pos- 
sible construction  on  your  little  joke... Or  if  he 
doesn't  accuse  you  as  a  spy,  he  may  use  his 
knowledge  as  a  club,  a  la  caveman,  in  case  he 
wants  to  marry  a  fortune.  There's  a  rumor 
that  his  gambling  debts  are  heavy  and  his 
estates  mortgaged  to  the  hilt." 

The  girl  lifted  her  shoulders  in  her  newly 
acquired  French  shrug. 

"  Why  so  excited?  I'm  not  yet  promised  to 
your  dear  Kurt.  What  if  I  should  permit  the 
bogey  man  to  catch  me?  He  must  be  ranked 
pretty  high  among  the  local  crop  of  eligibles. 
Did  you  notice  how  the  angelic  frauleins  glared 
at  me  —  and  the  manner  of  Mama  Kissel  when 
she  introduced  Gold  Elsie  to  him?  You'll  be 
safer  if  I  lure  him  away  from  your  particular 
indigo-eyed  —  ' ' 

"  Cut  it!"  exclaimed  Thorpe.  "She's  safe 
from  him,  thanks  be!  Has  only  a  small  dot.  It's 
you,  Loo.  As  Kurt  would  say,  you  had  both 
the  tactical  and  strategic  advantage  over  the 
noble  count.  It's  not  alone  your  beauty.  He 
needs  money.  But  now  you've  given  him  the 
whip  handle,  and  he's  apt  to  use  the  lash.  Don't 
forget  you've  made  him  eat  crow.  He's  the  kind 
who'll  smash,  if  he  can't  dominate.  Remember, 
there  on  the  street." 

Lucy  essayed  a  Parisian  uptilt  of  her  dainty 
shoulders  more  nonchalant  than  the  first. 

*  *  I  shall  endeavor  to  take  care  of  myself  —  as 
usual.  It's  well  for  a  woman  to  know  before- 


58  The  Blond  Beast 

hand  what  her  husband  is  capable  of  doing. 
There  would  be  the  advantage  that  Count  von 
Pappheim  would  have  no  surprises  for  me." 

"  Don't  joke,  Loo.  The  man  is  impossible  as 
the  husband  of  an  American  girl." 

"  Really?  Well,  even  at  that,  I  fail  to  see 
that  it  is  any  concern  of  yours." 

Thorpe  did  not  reply.  To  avoid  feeling  con- 
cern for  his  old  friend  and  one-time  chum  was 
more  easily  said  than  done.  But  if  she  denied 
him  the  right  of  friendship,  what  other  right 
had  he  to  interfere? 

She  awaited  his  rejoinder  with  an  eagerness  in 
her  half  lowered  eyes  that  he  took  for  ready  com- 
bativeness.  When,  without  speaking,  he  faced 
away  to  smile  at  the  approaching  Elsa,  the  cor- 
ners of  her  firm-set  challenging  lips  curved 
down  in  a  pensive  droop. 

All  the  other  guests  had  gone.  As  Kurt  nur- 
ried  his  mother  back  from  the  door,  he  told  her 
that  Miss  Carew  had  consented  to  become  their 
house  guest.  The  deeply  gratified  frau  beamed 
no  less  delightedly  than  Elsa  over  the  joyous 
news.  They  would  not  hear  of  Lucy's  returning 
to  tbe  hotel  even  to  settle  her  bill. 


CHAPTER  VI 
STIRRING  UP  THE  TIGERS 

The  week  that  followed  played  havoc  with 
Thorpe's  attendance  at  the  university.  But  he 
tossed  a  bone  to  his  scientific  conscience  by  bot- 
anizing Elsa's  flowers  and  gravely  explaining  to 
her  the  various  chemical  reactions  of  cooking. 
These  prosaic  talks  and  his  avoidance  of  open 
ardor  led  Frau  von  Kissel  to  believe  that  his 
interest  in  Elsa  was  no  more  than  brotherly.  He 
had  not  asked  permission  to  woo . . .  The  preoc- 
cupation of  the  good  lady  over  Kurt  was  further 
reason  for  her  failure  to  realize  that  the  Amer- 
ican was  courting  her  daughter  along  the  lines 
of  least  resistance. 

Elsa  was  intensely  domestic.  She  could  be 
won  only  by  successive  passage  through  the  gate- 
ways of  her  confidence,  esteem,  friendship  and 
affection.  Thanks  to  his  standing  with  her 
mother  and  brother  and  to  his  abstention  from  all 
gallantry,  Thorpe  attained  his  first  objective 
within  a  week.  Elsa  came  to  trust  him  as  she 
trusted  Kurt,  and,  in  the  candor  of  her  artless- 
ness,  she  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  her  grow- 
ing fondness  for  him. 

But  Frau  von  Kissel  was  by  this  time  more 
than  ever  engrossed  over  her  son  and  their  house 

59 


60  The  Blond  Beast 

guest.  As  Thorpe  had  foreseen,  the  honest 
matron  had  required  only  the  briefest  of  acquaint- 
ances with  Lucy  to  forget  her  prejudice  against 
international  marriages  —  so  far  as  sons  were 
concerned.  In  the  German  sense  of  the  term, 
Lucy  was  not  accomplished.  She  had  taken  a 
course  in  domestic  science.  But  her  tastes  were 
not  domestic,  and  she  frequently  displayed  a 
shocking  irreverence  towards  authority.  Yet 
she  had  a  way  with  her  that  even  race  and  caste 
could  not  resist.  There  was  also  her  beauty  and 

fortune.  . 

Kurt  had  needed  no  parental  urgmgs  to  begin 
his  suit.  By  the  second  day  he  was  heels  over 
head  in  love  with  their  charming  guest, 
that  Lucy  had  sought  to  be  fascinating,  bhe 
had  treated  him  with  the  same  offhand  friendli- 
ness that  she  showed  towards  Thorpe,  promising 
no  more  than  she  gave.  Even  his  mother  could 
not  say  that  he  had  any  right  to  be  aggrieved  by 
the  attentions  that  she  permitted  from  the  some- 
what arrogantly  ardent  Count  von  Pappheim 

The  situation  reached  a  crisis  m  the  midst  ol 
the  motor  rides  and  concerts  and  other  simple 
entertainments.  Von  Pappheim  managed  to  pro- 
cure for  Miss  Carew  — with  Frau  von  Kissel  as 
chaperon  — an  invitation  to  the  garden  fete  of  a 
Highness.  Lucy  proved  to  be  the  most  beautitul 
and  charming  girl  present,  and  she  was  so  uncon- 
sciously lacking  in  awe  of  royalty  that  a  certain 
exalted  heir  known  for  his  gallantries  dubbed 
her  the  American  Princess.  The  attention  from 
this  imperial  direction  not  only  disquieted  Von 
Pappheim  but  inflamed  him  to  redoubled  ardor. 


Stirring  Up  the  Tigers  61 

Frau  von  Kissel  was  correspondingly  de- 
pressed. 

"  Ach,  Hebe  fraulein,"  she  sighed  when,  above 
the  home  threshold,  the  count  kissed  Lucy's 
hand  and  took  his  leave.  "  For  you  to  have 
been  complimented  by  His  Imperial  Highness! 
You  are  too  splendid  for  such  poor  folk  as  we. 
My  Kurt  —  he  will  be  sad.*' 

Lucy  patted  the  mother's  plump  arm. 

"  Why  cross  bridges  before  you  come  to  them? 
My  motto  is,  Pleasure  before  Business.  I'm  in 
no  hurry  to  marry.  I  came  abroad  to  enjoy  my- 
self. What  do  you  say  to  motoring  through 
France,  Italy  and  Switzerland  with  me?  " 

The  frau's  blue  eyes  suffused  with  tears. 

"  Fraulein,  the  longing  of  my  life  has  been  to 
make  the  grand  tour.  You  are  most  kind.  If 
I  could  but  leave  my  beloved  children!  " 

*'  But  why  leave  them?  —  The  more  the  mer- 
rier. It's  double  fun  to  have  friends  along.  If 
you  go,  I  can  get  Lan  Thorpe  to  personally  con- 
duct the  party.'* 

"  All  as  your  guests,  fraulein?  —  so  many! 
The  expense —  " 

"  A  trifle." 

"  You  say  it  —  only  a  trifle. .  .Ach!  Ach!  mein 
lieber  Kurtzie!  To  get  leave  of  absence  is  not 
so  easy  for  a  staff  lieutenant." 

"  Well,  he  can  at  least  try.  Elsa  says  he's  not 
had  a  holiday  since  his  promotion,  and  that 
Colonel  van  Houses —  " 

"  Vait!  Vait!"  interrupted  the  shocked  frau. 
"  You  should  say,  Herr  General  von  Hausen." 

"  Oh,  a  rose  by  any  other  name,  you  know  — 


62  The  Blond  Beast 

The  point  is,  he   spoke  well  of  some  idea  of 
Kurt's  about  lightening  the  soldiers'  packs." 

"  Ja,  the  boy  wants  to  ease  the  load.  Count 
von  Pappheim  says  it  is  a  foolishness.  He  says 
the  cattle  need  big  loads  to  keep  them  down  where 
they  belong.  The  general  he  says,  'Nein.  With 
cartridges  we  will  replace  what  weight  Kurt 
takes  off  the  pack.  So  much  more  lead  for  the 
enemy  when  Der  Tag  comes,  nicht?  '  —  You  see, 
Hebe  fraulein,  how  the  army  works  so  hard 
always  to  become  more  efficient.  It  is  for  the 
Fatherland... But  the  general  is  of  the  Wurt- 
temburg  High  Command.  He  is  not  of  the  Prus- 
sian. That  is  sad  for  Kurt." 

Lucy  smiled  and  shrugged.  Like  most  persons 
of  decisiveness,  she  disliked  being  forced  to  an 
issue,  and  Von  Pappheim  had  begun  to  press  his 
suit  with  over-urgent  ardor.  In  the  morning  she 
made  her  suggestion  of  the  tour  direct  to  Kurt. 
He  caught  at  the  possibility  of  ridding  himself 
for  a  time  of  the  man  he  considered  his  most 
dangerous  rival.  His  visions  of  the  tour  in 
company  with  his  beloved  one  were  no  less  bliss- 
ful than  Thorpe's  anticipations  of  joy  in  the 
companionship  of  Elsa. 

He  hastened  to  apply  for  a  month's  leave  of 
absence.  That  evening  Von  Pappheim  called  to 
express  his  condolences.  He  had  been  spoken  to 
about  the  application,  and  had  put  in  a  good 
word  for  his  esteemed  young  friend,  but  he 
feared  the  leave  would  not  be  granted. 

"What  a  shame!  Think  of  their  being  so 
strict  in  peaceful  times  like  these,"  exclaimed 
Lucy.  She  added,  not  altogether  jokingly,  "I'll 


Stirring  Up  the  Tigers  63 

have  to  drop  the  Crown  Prince  a  note.  I  know 
he'd  let  Mr.  von  Kissel  go  if  7  asked  him." 

Even  Thorpe  joined  in  the  startled  protests 
against  such  a  shocking  breach  of  etiquette.  Lucy 
ignored  him  and  the  others  to  smile  archly  into 
Von  Pappheim's  jealous  eyes. 

"  Oh,  but  that's  the  beauty  of  it,  you  see," 
she  rallied.  "I'm  supposed  to  be  quite  ignorant 
about  court  and  military  etiquette,  and  I'll  men- 
tion that  Kurt  knows  nothing  of  my  request. 
Besides,  if  I'm  an  American  princess,  why 
shouldn't  I  enjoy  the  privileges  of  my  rank?  " 

Frau  von  Kissel  herself  perceived  that  further 
remonstrance  would  serve  only  to  make  her  will- 
ful guest  the  more  determined.  Count  von  Papp- 
heim  set  his  lean  florid  jaw  and  made  persistent 
attempts  throughout  the  remainder  of  the  even- 
ing to  obtain  a  tete-a-tete  with  the  heiress.  Lucy 
betrayed  no  desire  to  avoid  his  attentions.  Yet, 
somehow,  both  in  the  house  and  out  among  the 
moonlit  flower  beds,  either  Kurt  or  his  mother 
kept  near  her  until  the  baffled  captain  gave  over 
the  siege  and  reluctantly  took  his  leave. 

Thorpe  had  lingered  in  the  hall  behind  the 
others  for  his  parting  with  Elsa,  As  he  passed 
out  with  Kurt,  Lucy  was  unconsciously  wiping 
the  back  of  the  hand  that  the  count  had  saluted. 
She  gaily  held  up  both  her  hands  for  the  good- 
night clasps  of  the  friends.  They  swung  out 
side  by  side  into  the  moonlight  and  left  her 
standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  doorway. 

Thorpe  was  almost  as  concerned  as  his  com- 
panion. 

"  Well,  the  best  thing  is  to  get  her  across  the 


64  The  Blond  Beast 

border  as  soon  as  we  can.    It's  up  to  you  to 
pull  all  your  wires  for  that  leave." 

Kurt  winced.  "  Perhaps  I  may  win  permis- 
sion to  join  you  later.  She  must  go  at  once." 

To  this  Thorpe  heartily  agreed.  But  when, 
the  next  day,  they  urged  the  new  plan  upon 
Lucy,  she  laughed  at  their  apprehensions. 

11  Oh,  I'll  chance  the  lord  high  executioner  and 
his  big  bright  broadax.  Civilized  people  no 
longer  starve  women... They  give  them  forcible 
feeding.  And  everyone  I  meet  keeps  reminding 
me  that  Germany  is  the  most  civilized  of  all 
countries.  So  why  should  I  be  afraid?  Just  to 
show  you,  I'll  stir  up  the  tigers  by  cutting  that 
motor  ride  with  the  count  and  going  to  Lan's 

lecture. ' ' 

The  announcement  did  not  tend  to  lessen  the 
anxiety  of  the  friends.  Von  Pappheim  was  not 
the  kind  of  man  one  trifles  with.  Yet  Kurt  could 
not  feel  other  than  pleased.  The  plan  had  been 
for  him  to  go  to  the  university  with  Thorpe  and 
Elsa  while  his  mother  chaperoned  Lucy  on  her 
outing  with  the  count. 

Thorpe  was  a  Prussian  year  distant  from  his 
life  as  an  American  undergraduate.  When  Lucy 
inquired  about  the  lecture,  he  replied  with  real 
enthusiasm  that  the  eminent  president  of  the 
Imperial  University  was  to  favor  the  public  with 
an  open  address  on  the  spirit  of  Deutschland. 
He  went  on  to  explain  that,  like  the  pastors  of 
the  State  Church,  the  university  professors  were 
all  officials  under  direct  governmental  super- 
vision, and  their  utterances  were  therefore 
doubly  authoritative.  Lucy  made  no  other  com- 


Stirring  Up  the  Tigers  65 

ment  than  to  lift  her  dark  eyebrows.  At  the 
lecture,  however,  even  her  doubting  spirit  was 
convinced  by  the  glow  of  fervor  to  which  the 
great  audience  was  fired  by  the  Pan-Germanic 
visionings  of  the  shag-bearded  professor. 

From  the  first  grandly  sweeping  sentence  al- 
most to  the  peroration  Thorpe  smiled  in  sympa- 
thetic accord  with  Elsa's  rapt  appreciation  of 
her  country's  laudation.  Even  Lucy  approved 
many  of  the  patriotic  sentiments  proudly  inter- 
preted to  her  by  Kurt.  But  then,  from  the 
majestic  height  of  his  rhetorical  climax,  the  now 
passionately  exalted  speaker  hurled  a  thunder- 
bolt that  jarred  to  life  every  nerve  of  Thorpe's 
dormant  Americanism: 

"  The  State  is  supreme. .  .It  is  above  all  mor- 
ality —  and  the  Emperor  is  the  head  of  the 
State.  To  sustain  him  in  his  divinely  appointed 
authority  there  are  three  P's  that  must  be  put 
down  and  kept  down  —  Parliament,  People  and 
Press!  " 

The  storm  of  applause  that  greeted  this  dictum 
muffled  Thorpe's  hot  protest  to  Kurt: 

"  What  rot!  Didn't  know  that  Whiskers  was 
an  anachronistic  fossil.  Let  him  blether !  Divine 
right  has  been  dead  and  buried  a  century  or 
more.  Your  Socialists  will  soon  show  him." 

Kurt  smiled  back  at  his  angered  friend. 

Under  the  uplifted  hand  of  the  orator  the  audi- 
ence was  hushing  to  breathless  silence.  At  the 
close  of  the  somewhat  flat  peroration,  Lucy 
brought  the  ecstatic  Elsa  to  earth  with  a  com- 
ment on  a  particularly  inartistic  hat.  Thorpe 
adroitly  edged  in  a  remark  that  she  must  be 


66  The  Blond  Beast 

eager  to  see  the  new  Parisian  styles.  Lucy's 
assent  was  so  keen  that  he  and  Kurt  exchanged 
smiles  of  relief.  A  little  more,  and  she  would 
flit  over  the  frontier,  safe  beyond  annoyance 
from  the  Prussian  secret  service. 

They  were  still  happy  in  this  thought  when 
her  car  brought  the  party  whirling  into  the  Von 
Kissel  drive.  Beside  the  entrance  was  waiting 
the  big  gray  car  of  Count  von  Pappheim.  Lucy 
smiled  at  her  grave-faced  companions. 

"  Maybe  I  stirred  up  the  tigers  before  ^they 
arrived,  but  they  don't  seem  to  have  stirred 
since.  Let's  go  in  and  hear  them  roar." 

Von  Pappheim  was  seated,  sternly  erect,  be- 
tween the  perturbed  Frau  von  Kissel  and^  an 
empty  bottle  of  her  choicest  wine.  At  sight 
of  the  party  he  paused  in  the  adjustment  of  the 
boar's  tusk  points  of  his  ash-yellow  mustache, 
pocketed  the  mirror  and  comb,  and  rose  to  frown 
down  at  Lucy  from  his  full  height.  The  impres- 
sive effect  was  spoiled  by  Lucy's  seeming  obliv- 
iousness  to  his  displeasure. 

"  Delightful  day,  Herr  Count,  isn't  it?  I  see 
you've  been  holding  the  ^fort.  So  good  of  you 
to  entertain  Mrs.  von  Kissel." 

"  I  came  to  keep  the  appointment  I  had  with 
Fraulein  Carew,"  stiffly  replied  Von  Pappheim. 
"  That's  so  —  that  spin  of  ours  out  to  Pots- 
dam to  see  the  palace  while  the  Kaiser  is  at  Kiel. 
Now  it's  too  late." 

"  You  have  spoken  truth,  fraulem,"  jerked 
out  the  captain,  his  eyes  glinting  like  the  steel 
of  his  sword  sheath.  "  The  Emperor  will  return 
swiftly  from  his  yachting.  Soon  all  Deutschland 


Stirring  Up  the  Tigers  67 

shall  shudder  at  the  deed  of  hideous  frightful- 
ness  whose  results  are  destined  to  shake  the 
world.  The  vile,  treacherous  Serb  swine  have 
most  foully  assassinated  Archduke  Franz  Ferdi- 
nand, heir  to  the  double  throne  of  Austria- 
Hungary.  " 

Kurt  and  his  mother  uttered  exclamations  of 
horrified  pity  and  indignation,  in  which  Thorpe 
rather  mildly  joined.  Elsa  gazed  at  the  bearer 
of  the  startling  news  with  the  wide  open  eyes 
and  parted  lips  of  a  wondering  child.  Lucy  alone 
showed  indifference. 

"  Isn't  that  just  like  those  Austrian  arch- 
dukes? "  she  remarked.  "  They're  always  com- 
mitting suicide  or  running  off  with  actresses  or 
getting  shot.  I  suppose  this  will  mean  another 
ugly  little  Balkan  war.  After  grabbing  most  of 
the  territory  freed  by  the  Serbians  from  the 
Turks,  and  then  blocking  their  window  on  the 
Adriatic,  I  suppose  the  Austrian  bully  will  catch 
at  the  pretext  to  jump  on  the  little  fellow  he 
has  wronged." 

Von  Pappheim's  florid  hatchet  face  was  crim- 
son with  outraged  pride  of  race  and  caste.  A 
burst  of  harsh  criticism  was  in  order.  But  to  the 
surprise  of  all  except  Lucy,  he  restrained  his 
wrath  and  spoke  with  a  show  of  gallant  tolerance. 

"  The  fraulein  is  American,  and  so  should  be 
excused  for  her  ignorance.  She  does  not  realize 
that  the  Austrians,  though  the  lesser  breed,  are 
yet  of  our  noble  Deutsch  race,  while  the  Serbs 
are  no  more  than  Slavic  swine.  They  have  proved 
their  murderous  vileness  in  this  crime  against 
royalty,  which  is  of  personal  concern  to  me  and 


68  The  Blond  Beast 

to  you,  fraulein.     Of  that,  with  your  kind  per- 
mission, I  would  speak  to  you  in  private." 

Even  to  Elsa  the  count's  purpose  was  evi- 
dent in  the  avid  ardor  and  rapacity  of  his  look. 
Lucy  met  it  without  the  slightest  change  in  her 
air  of  cool  aplomb.  She  turned  her  gaze  around 
past  the  anxious  Kurt  to  Thorpe.  His  assured 
smile  told  not  only  that  he  was  confident  she 
would  refuse  the  request,  hut  also  that  he  felt 
no  rivalry  towards  the  Prussian.  Her  cheeks 
lost  a  trifle  of  color  and  as  quickly  flushed  to  a 
shade  above  their  usual  rose,  as  she  gave  her 
gracious  reply  to  the  eager  suitor: 

"  I  am  sure,  my  dear  Count,  a  tete-a-tete  on 
the  subject  would  be  very  interesting." 

Kurt  covered  his  distress  by  the  excuse  that 
he  must  hasten  off  to  learn  the  details  of  the 
assassination.  His  mother  withdrew  to  the 
kitchen.  Thorpe  promptly  seized  the  opportu- 
nity for  a  tete-a-tete  of  his  own  with  Elsa  in 
the  garden. 

Left  alone  with  Lucy,  the  count  escorted  her 
to  a  chair,  seated  himself  very  near,  and  im- 
pressed an  ardent  kiss  upon  her  gloved  hand. 

"  Fraulein,  I  had  intended  to  wait  longer. 
Now  my  will  is  to  speak.  That  — what  do  you 
say?  — that  lucky  misplay  of  the  fool  Serbs  has 
lighted  the  fuse  of  the  great  bomb.  Our  press 
and  our  diplomats  may  make  denial  —  it  is  their 
part  to  lie  and  raise  a  dust  — but  Der  Tag  ^  is 
now  dawning.  Perhaps  its  red  sun  may  rise 
in  a  week,  perhaps  in  half  a  year." 

"  Der  Tag?  "  queried  Lucy.    "  What's  that?  ' 
"  Ach,  you  shall  know!    It  is  The  Day  — the 


Stirring  Up  the  Tigers  69 

Time  when  all  Deutschland  shall  spring  up  in 
shining  armor;  shall  crush  the  hated  underling 
nations  with  the  might  of  the  mailed  fist;  shall 
sweep  clear  with  the  sword  a  wide  place  in  the 
sun.  Deutschland  iiber  Alles!  " 

11  You  mean  —  you  can't  mean  that  Germany 
will  go  to  war!  " 

"  All  is  arranged.  Der  Tag  will  now  soon 
be  set.  First  we  will  sweep  over  weak,  degen- 
erate France;  then  we  will  take  so  much  of 
Russia  as  we  choose.  After  that  the  Engldnder 
schweine.  With  the  French  and  Russian  fleets 
added  to  our  own,  we  will  cross  over  the  Channel 
through  the  boastful  British  fleet.  As  for  the 
contemptible  little  British  army  —  pfui!  " 

"  0-oh  —  I  see,"  murmured  Lucy.  "  But  my 
country  —  how  about  America?  " 

Von  Pappheim  masked  the  rapacious  glint  in 
his  steel-blue  eyes  and  smiled  ingratiatingly. 

"  Americans  care  only  for  trade  and  money. 
They  do  not  threaten  us.  We  wish  only  to  win 
our  rightful  place  in  the  sun.  When  we  have 
done  that  and  freed  the  seas  from  the  tyranny 
of  the  British  navy,  we  will  take  Canada  and 
be  your  good  friends  and  protectors.  I  speak 
now  because  Der  Tag  is  dawning.  I  wish  not 
to  wait.  As  Deutschland  and  America  shall 
unite,  so  also  my  will  now  is  that  we  unite. 
Liebe  fraulein,  I  have  the  high  honor  of  asking 
for  your  hand  —  in  marriage." 

Lucy  musingly  slipped  off  a  glove  and  ran 
her  dainty  fingertips  along  the  fluff  of  hair 
under  her  hat  brim.  Her  green  eyes  looked  the 
avidly  eager  suitor  and  his  gorgeous  uniform 


70  The  Blond  Beast 

up  and  down  as  though  with  calm  appraisal. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  altogether  sure,"  she  at  last 
replied.  "  You  see,  I'm  my  own  man  of  busi- 
ness. I  have  to  consider  everything.  You  have 
your  title.  But  I  fancy  I  represent  ^  something 
more  than  my  money,  and,  in  my  opinion —  " 

"  Ja,  ja,  llebe  fraulein,  most  charming  frau- 
lein!  "  broke  in  Von  Pappheim,  all  smiles  and 
gallantry  and  hot  ardor.  "  You  have  beauty, 
grace,  style,  verve.  You  will  make  a  greatly-to- 
be-desired  frau." 

"  You  really  think  so?  " 

"  How  else?  Ach,  liebe  fraulein,  it  is  then  all 
agreed... except  the  dot.  Your  fortune— -it  is 
twenty  million  marks,  nichtf  " 

The  hand  with  which  Lucy  was  still  caressing 
her  hair  paused  and  then  came  down  across  her 
face,  politely  to  hide  an  ennuied  yawn. 

"  Ah,  pray  pardon  me,  Herr  Count,"  she  mur- 
mured. "  That  lecture  on  the  grandeur  of 
Deutschland,  you  know  — The  beating  of  the  big 
bass  drum  always  has  the  effect  of  wearying 

me." 

Von  Pappheim  stiffened.  '  We  are  engaged 
in  the  needed  settlement  of  the  betrothal  terms. 
The  matter  is  most  serious,  fraulein." 

"  Indeed,  it  is,"  agreed  Lucy.  '  Bather  too 
much  so.  Tante  von  Kissel  has  been  lecturing 
me  on  the  duties  of  a  German  wife.  She  tells 
me  Majestdt  and  all  his  dutiful  male  subjects 
believe  that  woman's  sphere  should  be  limited 
to  church,  children  and  kitchen.  Well,  7  believe 
in  woman  suffrage  and  in  my  ability  to  manage 
myself  and  my  fortune.  And  I  do  not  believe 


Stirring  Up  the  Tigers  71 

in  marriage  on  the  European  plan.  I  must 
therefore  decline  with  thanks  the  high  honor  you 
would  confer  upon  me." 

The  bolt  struck  Von  Pappheim  a  stunning  blow 
square  in  the  center  of  his  arrogant  pride.  For 
several  moments  he  stared  as  if  unable  to  credit 
his  own  ears. 

"  Donnerwetter!  "  he  muttered.  "  You  would 
refuse  me  —  a  count  of  Imperial  Prussia?  It  is 
not  possible!  You  —  a  low  girl  of  no  birth! 
Nein!  nein!  " 

In  Germany  a  rejected  suitor  is  said  to  be 
given  the  basket.  Lucy  had  heard  this.  She 
picked  up  Elsa's  sewing  box  and  offered  it  to 
the  lordly  Prussian.  He  struck  it  from  her  hand 
and  sprang  to  his  feet,  livid  with  rage. 

"  Pfuil  "  he  hissed.  "  Jilt!  To  flirt  with  me 
—  lead  me  on!  Gott!  I  despise  you  beyond  all 
measure!  " 

Lucy  tilted  her  brows  in  a  look  of  pensive 
resignation. 

"  Dear  me!  I  am  so  sorry.  I  wanted  to  say 
that  first.  If  only  you  were  capable  of  realizing 
what  I  think  of  noble  counts  who  knock  ladies 
into  the  gutter  and  then  offer  them  insulting 
attentions!  I  tried  to  make  allowances,  thinking 
you  may  have  been  intoxicated.  But  now  I 
see—" 

"  Silence!  you  coquette  —  you  —  you  cocotte!  " 
shouted  Von  Pappheim,  beside  himself  with  fury. 
11  You  think  you  could  play  with  me  and  cast 
me  aside  with  derision.  Wait  —  you  shall  learn 
different. ' ' 

11  Too  bad  you  have  to  take  it  so  hard,"  com- 


72  The  Blond  Beast 

miserated  Lucy.  "I'd  have  thought  a  heroic 
captain  and  noble  count  of  Imperial  Prussia 
would  be  more  game.  What  —  must  you  go!  — 
You're  forgetting  your  basket." 

Von  Pappheim  stalked  out,  enraged  beyond 
speech,  his  boot  heels  jarring  on  the  polished 
floor. 


CHAPTER  VII 
HIS  LEAVE  OF  ABSENCE 

Kurt  came  home  to  dine,  grave  but  bravely 
endeavoring  to  conceal  his  depression.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  acquaintance  with  Lucy,  he 
took  her  hand  and  raised  it  to  his  lips  in  the 
Continental  fashion.  He  chose  the  left  hand. 
His  gaze  fixed  upon  the  third  finger  in  gloomy 
expectation.  It  was  bare  of  rings.  He  caught 
the  slender  hand  fast  in  a  quivering  clasp. 

"Miss  Carew!  —  you  —  you  have  not... Von 
Pappheim!  ' 

Lucy  smiled.     "  How  about  your  leave?  " 

"  Then  it  is  true!... But  my  leave — "  The 
glowing  face  of  the  young  officer  clouded.  "  I 
fear  there  is  less  chance  than  ever.  That  fright- 
ful murder  of  the  Archduke  and  his  wife  —  all 
the  newspapers  are  aflame  with  it.  The  authori- 
ties and  the  inspired  press  wish  to  quiet  the 
excitement.  Yet  at  such  a  time  leaves  of  absence 
are  not  granted.  They  are  cancelled." 

"  I  suppose  that's  true.  The  herr  count  said 
Germany  will  now  set  the  date  for  beating  up 
all  Europe.  If  I  believed  him,  I'd  take  the  next 
steamer  home.  But  it  can't  be  possible.  It's  so 
utterly  insane  —  so  —  so  silly !  " 

Kurt  nodded  in  hearty  assent. 

73 


74  The  Blond  Beast 

"  The  militarists  have  brooded  too  much  over 
the  writings  of  Treitschke  and  Bernhardi.  They 
would  make  war  for  war's  sake.  The  Crown 
Prince  is  of  their  party." 

"  Yes,  he  told  me.  I  thought  he  was  only 
trying  to  show  off."  .  . 

"  He  told  you!  —  Be  sure  he  was  not  3okmg. 
The  militarists  have  forgotten  how  to  laugh  - 
especially  when  war  is  the  topic.  Thank  God, 
we  may  have  every  confidence  in  our  peace- 
loving  Emperor  to  restrain  their  plans.— 
now  dear  Miss  Carew,  hasten  to  enjoy  your 
tour  of  the  lands  across  the  Rhine  June  is 
almost  gone.  Switzerland  will  be  at  its  best 
m  mid-summer.  You  will  give  great  .pleasure  to 
the  dear  mother  and  Elsa,  and  I  shall  hope 

30The°girPseeyes  narrowed  a  line  and  her  smile 

Ch«Twill  not  start  with  your  seat  empty     You 

forget  that  Lan  will  have  eyes  ^^^ft. 

The  refusal  to    o  without  him  so  thrilled  the 


however,  was  redoubled. 

"  Yet  you  should  not  delay,"  he  urged.  Ber- 
lin in  summer  is  all  too  dull.  There  are  dehght- 
fuVbaths  just  across  the  border  in  Belgium." 

"Oh  I'm  not  yet  in  need  of  a  cure  -even 
for  ennui,"  rallied  Lucy.  "  Why  this  eagerness 
to  drive  me  away?  I  begin  to  suspect  you  wish 

^Itt  ftSTJKBfc  omitted  Kurt 
his  face  very  grave.    "  I  wish  to  drive  you  safe 


His  Leave  of  Absence  75 

over  the  frontier  into  France  or  Belgium.  You 
have  rejected  Captain  von  Pappheim.  He  knows 
about  your  thoughtless  snapshots.  He  has 
friends  in  the  High  Command.  You  may  be 
subjected  to  great  annoyance  —  if  not  worse." 

Lucy's  eyes  flashed.  "  He  would  not  dare. 
The  American  ambassador  —  ' ' 

"  Is  away,"  broke  in  Kurt.  "  For  you  to 
be  forced  into  prison,  even  though  for  a  single 
day,  would  not  be  easy  to  bear." 

4<  They'd  do  that?  Try  to  scare  me?  How 
foolish  they  are!  Why  it's  the  very  thing  to 
make  me  feel  like  never  giving  up  those  pictures. 
I'd  have  been  only  too  willing  to  turn  over 
every  one,  there  at  the  first,  if  they  had  sent  a 
gentleman  to  ask  for  them  in  a  quiet  way." 

"It  is  the  army  training,  that  brusqueness. 
But  the  thought  of  your  danger... If  only  you 
would  cross  over  into  France  or  Belgium  or 
Switzerland !  ' ' 

The  defiant  lustre  in  Lucy's  eyes  softened  to 
insoucient  languor. 

"  You  forget  I'm  American.  Even  herr  count 
admitted  that  your  war  dogs  have  no  bone  to 
pick  with  my  country.  It's  absurd  to  think  any- 
one will  bother  me  over  those  little  snapshots." 

Kurt  was  silenced  until,  during  dinner,  Lucy 
let  the  others  know  that  she  had  declined  the 
proposals  of  Von  Pappheim.  Elsa  and  her 
mother  could  not  conceal  their  delight,  and  they 
naively  disclosed  its  mainspring  by  beaming  their 
congratulations  at  Kurt.  He  sought  to  divert 
attention  from  himself  by  telling  why  Lucy 
should  hasten  out  of  Germany. 


76  The  Blond  Beast 

But  Lucy  held  firmly  to  her  determination  to 
delay  her  departure  until  Kurt  should  obtain 
his  leave.  To  argue  was  futile.  Kurt  realized 
the  fact  almost  as  clearly  as  Thorpe.  But  neither 
was  prepared  to  give  up  his  efforts  to  help  the 
willful  girl,  while  waiting  for  Von  Pappheim  to 
strike.  Thorpe  called  at  the  American  legation, 
and  in  the  absence  of  the  ambassador,  consulted 
with  the  charge  d'affaires.  He  learned  that  there 
was  no  way  in  which  the  arbitrary  police  could 
be  prevented  from  arresting  Lucy  if  she  were 
accused  of  espionage.  The  best  that  Thorpe 
could  do  was  to  obtain  an  assurance  of  diplo- 
matic intervention  after  she  had  been  taken  into 

custody.  . 

Kurt's  efforts  promised  even  less.  Upon  ms 
first  return  from  service  at  headquarters,  he 
brought  the  ill  news  that  his  application  for  leave 
had  been  refused.  A  repetition  of  the  request 
brought  him  the  humiliation  of  an  official  repri- 
mand. Yet  in  his  fear  for  Lucy's  safety,  love  so 
spurred  him  that  he  ventured  to  write  to  General 
von  Hausen  about  his  wish  for  a  trip. 

Hardly  had  the  letter  been  posted  when  he 
received  an  order  relieving  him  from  staff  duty 
and  requiring  him  to  report  to  his  company 
commander.  Von  Pappheim  greeted  him  with 
a  smile  of  grim  satisfaction,  and  gave  command 
to  be  left  alone  with  Herr  Lieutenant  von  Kissel. 
When  Kurt  came  hastening  home,  he  aston- 
ished all  with  the  loud-voiced  announcement  that 
he  had  been  granted  a  month's  leave  His 
mother  and  Elsa  at  once  so  overflowed  with 
joyful  delight  and  enthusiasm  for  the  tour  that 


His  Leave  of  Absence  77 

Lucy  could  say  nothing  against  an  immediate 
start.  Her  assent  was  clinched  by  Kurt's  pessi- 
mistic remark  that  it  would  be  like  his  luck  to 
have  his  leave  recalled  after  the  first  few  days. 

"  Then  we  must  whirl  off  with  you,  and  crowd 
every  minute  of  your  holiday  full  of  fun,"  de- 
clared Lucy. 

Thorpe  alone  noticed  that  the  outburst  of 
delight  with  which  his  friend  took  this  was 
rather  over-acted.  Behind  the  mask  of  gaiety, 
that  failed  to  set  as  well  as  it  might  on  the 
young  officer 's  frank  face,  Thorpe  perceived  deep- 
ened concern,  instead  of  the  relief  for  which  he 
looked.  His  natural  inference  was  that  Kurt 
had  more  reason  that  ever  to  fear  a  blow  at 
Lucy.  The  case  against  her  would  be  all  the 
stronger  if  she  were  arrested  at  the  frontier  as 
a  fugitive. 

This  conjecture  was,  in  Thorpe's  opinion, 
rather  confirmed  than  refuted  when  the  German 
authorities  formally  viseed  his  own  and  Lucy's 
passports  with  a  readiness  that  indicated  they 
had  received  official  instructions. 

Yet  when,  after  a  swift  run  south  across 
Thuringia  and  Wurttemberg,  the  party  came  to 
the  Swiss  frontier  near  Lake  Constance,  Thorpe 
was  most  agreeably  disappointed.  Their  passage 
into  Switzerland  met  with  no  other  check  than 
the  slight  delay  caused  by  a  perfunctory  exami- 
nation of  passports  and  baggage.  Once  across 
the  border,  Thorpe  heaved  a  deep  breath  of  relief 
over  Lucy's  escape,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the 
delight  of  Elsa's  company. 

Several  days  passed  before  he  observed  that 


78  The  Blond  Beast 

Kurt   at   times    still   betrayed    signs    of   worry 

under  his  outward  glow  of  love  and  pleasure. 

"  Forget  it,"  he  urged.     "  Loo  is  safe  now. 

No  reason  why  you  should  he  so  down  in  the 

mouth." 

"  No  reason?  "  sighed  his  friend.  If  you 
hut  knew!  What  if  I  am  forced  to  — if  I  am 
recalled  bef  ore  —  before  I  can  ask  her!  ' 

Thorpe  smiled  sympathetically. 

"  Faint  heart  ne'er  won  fair  lady.  Buck  up. 
This  mountain  climbing  is  better  for  muscles  than 
heart.  But  we'll  soon  be  in  Paris."  ^ 

But  from  the  moment  of  the  party's  arrival, 
Kurt's  gaiety  in  the  gayest  of  capitals  was 
forced.  On  the  third  day  his  last  pretense  of 
enioyment  broke  down.  Lucy  had  gone  to  the 
American  embassy  with  Elsa  and  Thorpe.  Their 
return  found  Frau  von  Kissel  weeping  and  Kurt 
despondently  pacing  the  reception  rooms  of  the 
luxurious  hotel  suite. 

"'AM   achl"   moaned   the    grieved   mother. 
«  He  will  not  stay.    He  will  go  back  to  BeribL 
"  Don't  tell  me  his  leave  has  been  recalled! 
exclaimed  Lucy  with  a  warmth  of  regret  that 
brought    Kurt    a    congratulatory    glance    from 

Thoroe 

But  the  young  officer  only  winced  and  faced 
away.  His  mother  gazed  at  Lucy  in  tearful 

reproach.  «..*.•*      v 

"His  leave  — it  was  not  recalled,"  she  an- 
swered. "Much  worse  it  was.  You  should 
know,  fraulein."  , 

"Mother!"  reproved  Kurt  with  unwonted 
sharpness. . ."  Pardon  us,  Miss  Carew,  I  beg  ot 


His  Leave  of  Absence  79 

you.  The  mother  has  misunderstood.  I  have 
other  reasons  that  she  cannot  conjecture.  I  can- 
not express  how  very  sorry  I  am  to  go —  " 

"  But  you're  not  going, "  declared  Lucy. 
"  We'll  not  give  you  leave. .  .Will  we,  Elsa?. . . 
We  can't  spare  you,  Kurt.  We  are  to  have 
a  house  party.  At  the  embassy,  while  Elsa  and 
Lan  were  cracking  up  Berlin  to  some  American 
multimillionaires,  I  met  an  old  school  friend  — 
Polly  Jones  —  and  her  husband  Etienne  —  the 
Duke  of  Montmar,  you  know.  He  is  a  major 
of  Turcos  —  African  troops  —  and  has  been 
ordered  to  Algeria.  So  Polly  is  going  home  for 
a  visit,  and  I'm  to  have  the  Castle  of  Montmar 
as  long  as  I  wish.  It's  a  grand  old  pile,  some- 
where south  of  the  Marne,  they  say,  not  far 
from  a  place  called  Fere  Champenoise,  and  on 
cool  high  ground  among  the  pine  hills." 

"  Ach,  but  there  will  be  no  joy  without  Kurt," 
sighed  Elsa.  She  leaned  towards  Thorpe  with 
confident  appeal  in  her  lovely  blue  eyes.  "  Per- 
suade him  to  stay  with  us,  dear  friend." 

The  trustful  tenderness  of  her  look  inspired 
Thorpe.  He  smiled  and  thrust  out  at  Kurt  in 
bantering  challenge :  ' '  You  're  no  quitter,  old 
man.  You're  not  going  to  cut  out  and  leave 
us  in  the  lurch  without  good  reason.  Either  you 
stick  along,  or  you  tell  us  why  you  must  throw 
us  over." 

Kurt's  firm-set  young  jaw  slackened;  his  pink 
cheeks  whitened.  He  turned  away  to  hide  the 
fear  that  glinted  in  his  clouded  eyes. 

"  My  reasons  —  they  are  good.  Yet  I  cannot 
—  cannot  tell  them,"  he  murmured.  "  Ach, 


The  Blond  Beast 


himmel!  To  think  I  lack  strength !...  But  I 
must  try... I  will  at  least  go  as  far  as  thi 

castle  ' ' 

'  "  Fine! "  exclaimed  Lucy.  "  Once  we  get  you 
there,  Til  clap  you  in  the  dungeon,  and  tten 
you'll  not  be  able  to  escape,  even  if  you  wish. 

"  That  would  be  heavenly -for  you  to  hold 
me  fast,"  said  Kurt,  with  an  earnestness  that 
brought  an  added  tint  of  rose  into  Lucy's  cheeks. 
Elsa  and  her  mother  smiled  their  delight  over 
the  blush.  Only  Thorpe  perceived  m  Kurt  s 
reply  something  else  than  ardor.  But  he  soon 
forgot  his  concern  over  the  hidden  trouble  of  his 
friend  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  peaceful  pretty 
countryside,  with  its  quiet  woodlands  and  well- 
tilled  grain  fields,  its  toylike  hamlets  and  genial, 
vivacious  French  villagers. 

Later,  the  car  brought  the  party ^  up  among 
the  rolling  pine-clad  hills  of  a  high  tab  eland. 
The  Castle  of  Montmar  proved  to  be  all  an 
more  than  even  Lucy  had  expected  — a  grand 
chateau  of  the  Louis  XV  period    crowning  a 
steep  hill  on  the  border  of  the  Marshes  of  bt. 
Gond.     All   about   it   were   elaborate    gardens 
walled  or  hedged,  with  ponds  and  arbors    and 
paths  that  wound  in  and  out  among  beds   of 
enchanting  flowers.  , 

The  interior  of  the  castle,  restored  by  the 
wealth  of  its  American  countess,  was  little  less 
magnificent  than  a  palace.  Thorpe  at  first  felt 
Tt  of  place  among  such  resplendent  surround- 
ings  Within  a  few  hours,  however  all  the 
visitors  were  moving  about  in  the  midst  of  their 
semi-regal  setting  as  if  to  the  manor  born. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  BOSS'S  STEM 

Throughout  the  long  trip  from  Berlin  to 
Switzerland  and  down  into  France,  Thorpe  had 
been  satisfied  to  advance  himself  in  Elsa's  affec- 
tions by  imperceptible  degrees.  Now,  however, 
like  her  brother,  he  felt  that  the  time  had  come 
for  decisive  action. 

At  first  he  found  difficulty  in  getting  Elsa  apart 
from  the  others.  Whenever  the  party  divided, 
Frau  von  Kissel  very  obviously  refrained  from 
joining  Kurt  and  Lucy.  This  left  her  each 
time  in  the  company  of  Thorpe  and  Elsa. 
Whether  or  not  she  had  divined  the  American's 
intentions,  the  effect  was  the  same.  Thorpe  had 
also  to  contend  with  the  timidity  of  the  girl. 
For  all  her  artlessness,  she  had  at  last  fully 
awakened  to  the  meaning  of  their  "  friendship. " 

Several  days  passed  before  he  found  his  oppor- 
tunity. Frau  von  Kissel  descended  into  the 
kitchens  of  the  castle  and  attempted  to  explain 
to  the  chef  the  construction  of  certain  German 
dishes.  The  result  was  a  headache.  Elsa 
soothed  her  to  sleep,  and  then  ventured  out  into 
the  rose  garden,  thinking  that  Thorpe  had  joined 
her  brother  and  Lucy  on  a  motor  drive  to 
Sezanne. 

81 


82  The  Blond  Beast 

She  was  pressing  a  half-blown  Jacqueminot 
bud  to  her  exquisite  lips  when  Thorpe  came 
through  an  opening  in  the  high  box  hedge,  not 
three  paces  away.  She  smiled  at  him,  startled 
yet  pleased.  Then  she  saw  the  look  in  his  eyes, 
and  drew  back,  her  big  blue  eyes  wide  with 
maidenly  panic. 

"Goose!"  he  chuckled  in  joyous  banter. 
"  Don't  try  to  fly  away.  It's  no  use.  The  sly 
fox  has  you  cornered  at  last  — and  you  know 
you  want  to  be  caught.  What?  ' 

At  the  smiling  accusation  the  girl's  fear  gave 
place  to  confusion.  Her  eyes  drooped,  and  a 
deep  blush  swept  down  her  half-averted  face. 

"You  darling!  "  cried  Thorpe.  '  If  only  you 
could  see  yourself!  Beside  you  that  rose  is  a 
poor  faded  weed." 

Elsa  flung  out  her  hands  in  startled  protest 
and  drew  them  back  to  hide  her  scarlet  face. 

"Ach!  ach!"  she  moaned.  'You  mock  — 
you  make  play  of  me -you  break  my  heart! 

Thorpe  affected  Prussian  curtness:  What, 
fraulein  — your  heart  broken?  Then  must  it  be 
mended.  Come  here.  March!  ' 

Elsa  quivered  and  hesitated,  between  embar- 
rassment ana  renewed  panic.  But  instinctive 
obedience  to  authority  impelled  her  forward. 
With  timid,  faltering  steps  she  crept  towards 
her  lover,  peeping  up  at  him  between  her  fingers 
like  a  bashful  child. 

"  So  far,  good.     Now  up  with  your  hands, 
he    commanded,   when    she   was    within    arms- 

Y(*£\  O  (I 

Blushing  and  trembling,  with  eyes  downcast 


The  Rose's  Stem  83 

and  fair  young  bosom  heaving,  the  girl  raised 
her  hands  to  his  shoulders  in  meek  surrender. 
He  clasped  her  to  him  with  such  adoring  tender- 
ness that  her  large  garden  hat  thrust  back  and 
fell  off.  He  kissed  the  crown  of  her  bright  hair. 

"  Gold  Elsie  — beloved!  "  he  whispered.  "  Tell 
me  you  love  me." 

Her  cheek  pressed  softly  over  his  fast  beating 
heart. 

"  Ich  Hebe  dich —  Icli  liebe  dich!  "  she  mur- 
mured the  sweet  confession. 

"  Prove  it.    Salute  —  auf"  he  commanded. 

She  obediently  raised  her  rose-flushed  face  and 
pressed  her  fragrant  lips  upon  his  in  her  first 
tremulous  kiss  of  love. 

Thorpe  kissed  the  silken  fringe  of  her  lowered 
eyelids.  "  Look  at  me,  beloved.  You  are  now 
my  betrothed.  We  shall  go,  like  good  children, 
and  ask  the  blessing  of  your  mother." 

Elsa  looked  up  —  but  not  to  return  his  ardent 
gaze  with  the  tender  love-light  he  expected.  The 
pupils  of  her  beautiful  eyes  were  dilating  with 
amazement  and  dismay. 

"  You  have  not  told  her  before?  You  have 
not  first  asked  her  permission?. .  .Ach,  Gott! 
What  have  I  done?  To  be  so  unmaidenly!  so 
undutiful!  " 

Thorpe  resisted  her  gentle  struggles  to  free 
herself  from  his  embrace. 

"  Hush,"  he  soothed.  "  Be  quiet,  dear  heart. 
I  have  you  fast,  and  I  shall  not  let  you  go. 
There's  no  need  to  grieve.  I  told  Kurt  months 
ago.  He  wished  me  success.  Your  mother  will 
give  her  consent  to  our  betrothal  when  she  learns 


84  The  Blond  Beast 

that  you  love  me  and  knows  that  Kurt  approves." 
"Yet  it  is  —  is  not  proper!"  panted  Elsa, 
"  Ach!  the  shame!  You  have  not  her  permission. 
She  may  refuse. .  .And  my  dot  is  so  little !  When 
you  see  how  little,  you  will  not  wish  to  wed  so 
poor  a  fraulein." 

"  Goose,  goose,  goose,"  tenderly  reproached 
Thorpe,  and  he  caught  her  drooping  head  between 
his  hands.  "  This  dear  nubbin  is,  I  fear,  quite 
empty;  but  on  top  of  it  is  the  most  priceless  of 
yellow  gold,  and  down  below  is  a  gold  heart 
overflowing  with  dutifulness  and  kindness  and 
love.  What  greater  treasure  could  a  bride  have 
for  her  dot?  " 

Tears  gushed  into  the  girl's  uplifting  eyes. 
She  flung  up  her  arms  again  to  clasp  Thorpe's 
neck  in  an  ecstasy  of  devotion. 

"  I  will  work  for  you  —  ach,  so  hard  I  will 
work ! . . .  Only  —  only  persuade  the  mother,  that 
I  may  wed  you  and  serve  you  all  my  life !  ' 

"  She'll  be  glad  to  give  us  her  blessing,"  con- 
fidently predicted  Thorpe.  "  Come.  We'll  go  to 
her  now,  and  have  our  happy  surprise  all  ready 
to  spring  on  Kurt  and  Lucy." 

Elsa  trembled,  but  docilely  permitted  him  to 
lead  her  around  through  the  rose  garden  and 
into  the  castle. 

Frau  von  Kissel  had  wakened  from  her  nap 
and  sent  out  one  of  the  French  maids  to  summon 
Elsa.  She  lost  her  expectant  smile  when  the 
maid  brought  back  word  that  Monsieur  Thorpe 
wished  leave  to  present  himself  in  the  boudoir 
with  Mademoiselle  von  Kissel.  Her  usually  kind 
motherly  face  was  severe  as  Elsa  appeared,  pale 


The  Rose's  Stem  85 

and  drooping,  close  beside  her  lover.  Thorpe 
clasped  the  hand  that  the  frightened  girl  would 
have  drawn  away  from  his  arm. 

"  Here  we  are,"  he  sang  out,  cheerfully  dis- 
regarding the  chillness  of  their  welcome.  ' '  Dear 
Tante,  I've  come  to  ask  your  blessing.  I  wish 
the  right  to  call  you  '  Liebe  Mutter.'  Elsa  and 
I  have  made  the  happy  discovery  that  we  love 
each  other.  Tell  us  how  soon  I  may  wed  her." 

The  frau's  heavy  face  became  still  more  severe. 

"  What  is  this?  "  she  demanded  in  German. 
"  Have  I  lived  to  rear  so  undutiful  a  daughter? 
Can  it  be  true  a  fraulein  of  the  Von  Kissels  is 
without  shame?  Come  away  from  the  foreigner, 
girl." 

Stricken  to  the  heart,  Elsa  slipped  free  from 
Thorpe's  clasp  and  ran  to  sink  down  on  her 
knees  beside  her  mother's  chair.  Thorpe  was 
not  so  readily  subdued.  He  faced  the  indignant 
frau  with  cool  determination. 

"  Is  it  wise  or  kind  to  speak  in  haste,  Tante?  " 
he  reproached.  "  At  least  you  shall  not  blame 
Elsa.  She  believed  that  I  had  your  consent  to 
tell  her  of  my  love." 

* '  You  deceived  her  ?  I  would  not  have  thought 
it  of  you,  Allant!  " 

"  Not  intentionally,  but  that  was  her  belief. 
She  is  innocent  of  all  wrong.  The  fault,  if  any, 
is  mine  and  mine  alone." 

The  mother's  frown  relaxed  in  a  look  of  pro- 
found relief. 

"  Ach,  I  should  have  known.  For  a  daughter 
of  the  Von  Kissels  to  be  undutiful,  that  would 
be  impossible." 


86  The  Blond  Beast 

Elsa  burst  into  a  storm  of  joyous  tears  and 
flung  herself  upon  the  ample  bosom  of  her 
mother. 

1 '  You  forgive  me !  You  are  not  angered ! 
You  will  give  your  consent. .  .Mother,  I  love  him 
with  my  whole  heart,  even  as  he  loves  me  —  and 
—  and  he  cares  not  that  the  dot  is  so  little." 

"  It's  not  American  to  require  dots,  Tante," 
cut  in  Thorpe.  * l  I  went  ahead  and  won  Elsa 
on  the  American  plan.  Forgive  me  for  not  first 
asking  your  consent.  Kurt  was  willing.  You 
see  how  Elsa  loves  me.  Won't  you  give  us  your 
blessing?  " 

The  face  of  Frau  von  Kissel  was  again  very 
stern. 

"  Kurt  did  not  tell  me.  He  has  been  undutiful. 
You  have  deceived  me.  What  if  it  is  the  Ameri- 
can custom?  That  is  the  worst.  I  will  not 
have  a  foreigner  in  my  family." 

"  So  you  said  before  you  met  Miss  Carew. 
But  since  then  —  ' ' 

"  A  good  friend  you  have  spoilt,  Allant 
Thorpe,"  reproached  the  injured  lady.  "  You 
should  know  how  different  it  was.  A  wife  is 
the  property  of  her  husband.  Kurt's  wife  will 
be  a  Prussian  because  he  is  a  Prussian.  But 
Elsa  — I  will  not  that  a  daughter  of  the  Von 
Kissels  should  be  lost  to  the  Fatherland.  No 
more  shall  I  listen." 

"  I'll  not  ask  you  to,"  retorted  Thorpe.  "  I 
thought  you'd  be  glad  to  make  Elsa  happy.  You 
know  she  loves  me,  and  you  know  what  I'm  like. 
All  this  time  you've  treated  me  as  a  son.  You 
know  that  I  have  Kurt's  best  wishes  —  that  he 


The  Rose's  Stem  87 

and  I  are  the  closest  of  friends.  Yet  because 
I'm  an  American  you'd  make  Elsa  miserable; 
you  'd  —  " 

"  You  made  love  to  her  by  stealth,"  flung 
back  the  offended  frau. 

"  No,  only  in  the  usual  and  honorable  manner 
of  my  own  country,"  Thorpe  defended  himself. 

"  Ja,  ja,  you  would  prove  it,  nichtf  The 
honorable  manner  of  your  land  is  not  honorable 
in  the  Fatherland.  No  people  are  so  high  as 
Germans.  No  daughter  of  the  Von  Kissels  shall 
wed  a  man  of  a  lower  race." 

"  Mother!  "  gasped  Elsa. 

Thorpe  smiled  reassuringly  into  her  grief- 
stricken  face. 

"  Americans  are  made  up  of  the  pick  of  all 
races,  the  German  included,"  he  asserted.  "  For 
another  thing,  we  judge  a  man  by  what  he  is 
himself.  Kurt  considers  me  worthy  to  be  his 
heart's  friend.  What  more  need  you  ask,  dear- 
est? You  love  me.  Let  your  mother  keep  your 
dot,  if  she  wishes  to  be  unjust.  Only  —  marry 
me.  We  shall  go  to  live  in  America  and  be 
happy." 

But  Elsa's  golden  head  drooped  in  despairing 
resignation. 

"  The  mother  has  not  consented,"  she  sighed. 
"  It  may  not  be." 

"  Then  you  do  not  really  love  me,"  replied 
Thorpe. 

Elsa  quivered  but  only  clung  the  closer  to  her 
mother.  Thorpe  turned  away  and  walked  out  of 
the  boudoir  in  a  white  heat. 


CHAPTER  IX 
A  BEE  IN  THE  HONEY 

By  the  time  Kurt  and  Lucy  returned  from 
their  motoring,  Thorpe's  anger  had  cooled.  He 
had  taken  thought  of  the  strict  training  in  obedi- 
ence to  parental  dictation  under  which  Elsa  had 
been  reared  from  infancy.  Unquestioning  com- 
pliance with  Authority  had  been  made  her  second 
nature  by  those  who  had  moulded  her  young 
life.  Like  the  privates  of  the  German  army,  all 
her  will  and  initiative  had  been  drilled  and  sub- 
dued, until  she  lacked  even  the  inclination  to 
disobey.  She  was  not  to  blame. 

The  passing  of  his  hot  indignation  left  Thorpe 
only  the  more  resolute.  He  had  won  the  daugh- 
ter's love.  Now  he  would  force  the  consent  of 
the  mother... He  was  waiting  on  the  steps  of 
the  porte-cochere  when  Kurt  handed  the  beam- 
ing Lucy  from  her  car  as  if  she  were  a  piece 
of  priceless  porcelain. 

"  'Lo,  Loo.  What's  this?  '  he  greeted. 
"  Looks  as  if  you've  cured  Kurt  of  his  grouch." 

A  fist  blow  could  not  have  more  completely 
dashed  the  young  officer's  blissfulness  than  the 
well-meant  banter.  Kurt  stared  at  his  friend  a 
moment;  then  abruptly  hung  his  head  as  if 
stricken  with  grief  or  shame,  and  hurried  into 
the  castle. 

88 


A  Bee  in  the  Honey  89 

"  Why,  what  is  it?  What  have  you  done  to 
him,  Lan?  "  accused  Lucy. 

"  Nothing.  ..If  I  only  knew!  He's  heen  that 
way  ever  since  we  were  in  Switzerland.  I 
thought  it  was  worry  about  —  his  chances  with 
you." 

"  But  Pve  tried  to  he  good  friends.  He  really 
is  a  nice  boy.*' 

'  *  Only  that,  Loo  ? . . .  No  wonder  he  looks  glum 
if  you've  kept  reminding  him  he  is  just  a  nice 
boy  friend." 

Lucy's  green  eyes  glanced  up  in  a  questioning 
look  that  cooled  and  hardened  under  Thorpe's 
reproachful  gaze. 

"  How  I  feel  towards  Lieutenant  von  Kissel  is 
a  matter  that  concerns  only  him  and  myself," 
she  replied. 

"  Forgive  me,  Loo,"  Thorpe  hastened  to  apol- 
ogize. "  It  was  only  that  I  couldn't  help  sym- 
pathizing with  him.  I'm  in  a  hole  as  bad  —  or 
worse. ' ' 

"  Really?  I  would  have  said  her  heart  has 
been  on  her  sleeve  for  you  ever  since  we  left 
Berlin." 

Thorpe  flushed  with  mingled  anger  and 
pleasure. 

11  You're  too  generous  to  mean  a  thing  like 
that,  Loo.  You  know  she's  absolutely  artless  — 
unsophisticated.  That's  the  trouble.  She's  a 
child,  and  her  mother  will  not. .  .Loo,  you  agreed 
to  be  chums  again.  I  want  your  help." 

"Oh,  yes  —  chums,"  murmured  Lucy.  "So 
you  want  me  to  —  pop  the  question  to  the  child 
for  you?  " 


90  The  Blond  Beast 

«  NO,  I we  —  Don't  joke  about  it,  Loo!    I'd 

be  the  happiest  of  men  —  She  loves  me !   She  told 
me   so.  ..Only,  you   see,  her  mother   forbids." 

"  Another  verboten.  \The  angel  could  not 
dream  of  anything  else  than  minding  mother. 
What  a  dutiful,  docile  wife  she  would  be  — the 
made  in  Germany  brand!  ' 

"  Shall  be,"  corrected  /Thorpe.  '  I'm  going 
to  have  her,  and  you  are  going  to  help." 

"  Oh,  am  I?  " 

"  All  we  need  is  to  crack  the  shell  of  Tante's 
confounded  race  prejudice.  She  is  willing  to 
accept  you  because  a  wife  merges  into  her  hus- 
band's family.  That's  the  whole  trouble.  She 
likes  me,  but  she  believes  Elsa  will  be  lowered 
by  becoming  an  American." 

"  Well,   if  you're  not  enough  of   a  Lochin- 


var— " 


.        _ 

"  You  know  that's  out  of  the  question,  Loo. 
I  might  persuade  the  child,  but  she  would  suffer. 
Unless  her  mothers  consents,  it  will  break  her 

heart.  * ' 

Lucy's  level  gaze  wavered  and  sank.  After  a 
perceptible  pause,  she  asked  in  a  listless  tone: 
"  What  is  it  you  wish  me  to  do!  ' 

"  Put  in  a  good  word  for  me  with  Tante," 
answered  Thorpe,  his  eyes  aglow  with  eagerness. 
"  I  know  you  can  persuade  her.  She'd  do  any- 
thing for  Kurt." 

"  And  you  think  I'd  do  anything  for  you? 

"  I  love  her,  Loo.  I've  no  chance  to  get  her 
if  you  don't  help  me." 

The  appeal  seemed  to  fall  on  deaf  ears.  Lucy 
did  not  look  up.  When  she  replied,  her  tone 


A  Bee  in  the  Honey  91 

was  more  listless  than  before:  "  Oh,  I  can't 
say.  I'll  think  about  it." 

She  left  Thorpe  standing  in  a  daze  of  dis- 
concertion. Her  indifferent  bearing  remained 
unchanged  until  she  was  alone  in  her  magnificent 
Louis  XV  bedchamber,  with  all  the  doors  bolted. 
Then,  safe  even  from  the  sympathetic  gaze  of 
her  elderly  maid,  she  began  in  outward  stillness 
to  fight  the  hardest  of  all  battles  that  can  come 
to  one  who  loves. 

Solitude  is  the  refuge  and  defense  of  those 
who  suffer  most  deeply. 

Lucy  remained  secluded  in  her  chamber.  She 
refused  to  see  anyone  except  her  maid  until 
mid-morning  of  the  next  day.  Then,  at  last,  she 
gave  permission  to  admit  the  anxiously  waiting 
Frau  von  Kissel.  The  good  lady  found  her  in  bed, 
a  trifle  pale  and  languid  but  otherwise  unchanged. 

"  Ach,  Hebe  fraulein!  "  she  sighed  her  relief. 
"  I  feared  you  had  a  bad  sickness  incurred.  I 
must  hasten  to  tell  my  Kurtzie.  The  poor  boy 
is  most  sad.  Do  not  tell  me,  liebe  fraulein,  you 
have  refused  him!  " 

The  tone  of  the  fond  mother  was  tragic.  Lucy 
did  not  smile.  She  herself  was  still  suffering 
far  too  acutely. 

"  I  have  yet  to  refuse  him,"  she  replied. 

"Yet!  " 

"  He  has  not  asked.  When  he  does  it  will  be 
time  for  me  to  consider  the  advisability  of  marry- 
ing into  a  family  that  despises  me." 

"  Nein,nein!  "  remonstrated  the  frau.  "  With 
the  highest  regard  we  regard  you,  Hebe  fraulein 
—  the  most  highest!  " 


92  The  Bloud  Beast 

Lucy  lifted  her  dark  eyebrows  in  an  expression 
that  was  both  incredulous  and  mildly  ironical. 

"  You  say  that,  yet  believe  Americans  to  be 
an  inferior  race.  Is  it  my  fortune  that  makes 
the  difference  between  your  feelings  for  me  and 
those  you  hold  towards  Allan  Thorpe?  ' 

Frau  von  Kissel  blinked.  Her  plump  jowl 
drooped.  Not  so  would  any  German  fraulein 
speak  to  a  frau  of  noble  family.  But  a  mother 
must  think  first  of  her  son. 

"  My  duty  is  to  my  children/'  she  replied  with 
a  dignity  that  was  not  altogether  lacking  in 
appeal.  "  Above  all  I  must  be  sure  they  make 
good  marriages.  -  My  Kurt  is  high-born  and  high- 
minded.  You  shall  be  sure  he  wants  not  your 
fortune.  He  is  most  unhappy  with  love  for 
yourself  only." 

11  Is  it  any  worse  for  him  to  be  unhappy  than 
for  others?  "  murmured  Lucy,  her  darkening 
eyes  fixed  in  a  gaze  that  looked  through  and 
beyond  all  earthly  objects.  "  Lan  Thorpe  is  as 
much  of  a  man  as  Kurt  is.  I  am  no  less  an 
American  than  he.  In  scorning  him  you  scorn 
me." 

The  rounded  mouth  of  the  frau  fell  frankly 
agape.  She  stared  at  the  unseeing  girl  beside 
her  in  wide-eyed  perplexity. 

"  But  why  would  you  do  it?"  she  ^  queried. 
"  Why  would  you  give  him  up  to  Elsa  if  you  so 
love  him?  " 

This  wonder  of  intuitive  perception  from  the 
phlegmatic  Teutonic  matron  seemed  neither  to 
surprise  nor  to  stir  Lucy. 
"  I  do  not  admit  — I  have  not  admitted  that  I 


A  Bee  in  the  Honey  93 

love  any  man,"  she  replied  with  cool  composure. 

Again  Fran  von  Kissel  ruminated  — 

1 '  So ...  good,  good . . .  Love  that  somes  after 
the  wedding  is  better ...  I  will  forgive  those 
naughty  children.  The  foolish  Elsa  weeps  her 
eyes  out. .  .Then  you  will  accept  my  lieber  Kurt, 
nichtf  " 

"  I  shall  make  no  promises,"  said  Lucy. 

11  Ach  —  but  that  is  wise  —  and  maidenlike. 
We  will  send  for  those  undutiful  children,  and 
after  they  are  made  joyful —  " 

"  Not  —  here!  "  whispered  Lucy,  the  hidden 
nails  of  her  clasped  fingers  cutting  into  the  white 
skin. 

Frau  von  Kissel  gave  the  girl  a  motherly  kiss 
on  the  temple  and  wisely  withdrew  without  speak- 
ing. She  sent  a  footman  for  Thorpe.  The  serv- 
ant found  him  vainly  attempting  to  play  a  more 
dispirited  game  of  billiards  than  Kurt.  The 
message  roused  the  young  officer  to  a  glow  of 
generous  gratulation. 

"  Hang  the  score,  Lan.  Hit  out,"  he  said. 
"  If  the  mother  has  sent  for  you,  it  must  mean 
a  fair-weather  change." 

Thorpe  was  far  less  sanguine.  His  doubts 
were  not  lessened  when  he  saw  Elsa  drooping 
with  shame  before  her  sternly  indignant  mother. 

"  Good  morning,  Tante,"  he  said.  "  I  under- 
stand you  wish  to  see  me." 

"  I  could  wish  I  might  never  see  you  again, 
Allant,"  chided  the  frau.  "  You  have  been  most 
so  undutiful  as  this  bad  daughter.  I  have  sent 
for  you  to  make  me  apologies  for  your  so-wrong 
doings. ' ' 


94  The  Blond  Beast 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  agree  to,"  replied 
Thorpe.  "  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  are  dis- 
pleased, but  I  see  no  reason  to  apologize  for 
loving  Elsa  and  winning  her  love  in  the  manner 
that  is  considered  right  and  honorable  by  my 
own  people." 

"Your  people  —  ach,  that  is  the  hardness! 
But  Fraulein  Carew  —  she  has  said  weighty 
words.  Ja,  und  some  better  Americans  may  be 
better  as  some  worse  Deutsch,  nicht?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  possible,  Tante,"  assented 
Thorpe,  his  eyes  brightening  as  he  sensed  the 
purport  of  this  reluctant  admission. 

Frau  von  Kissel  sighed  and  went  on  heavily: 

"  You  should  know,  Allant,  I  have  otherwise 
loved  you  as  a  son.  You  have  done  wrong,  but 
it  was  after  the  manner  of  your  outlandish, 
undutiful  custom.  Besides,  you  have  said  Elsa 
believed  you  had  asked  my  permission.  Now 
you  shall  both  behave  as  lovers  not  yet 
betrothed." 

The  reversal  was  too  sudden  for  Elsa  to  more 
than  half  grasp.  She  stood  motionless,  gazing 
at  her  mother  in  wide-eyed  bewilderment.  But 
Thorpe  was  prepared.  The  first  hint  of  yielding 
on  the  part  of  the  prejudiced  mother  gave  proof 
that  Lucy  had  interposed.  He  sprang  to  clasp 
his  arm  about  Elsa's  bowed  shoulders. 

The  girl's  startled  glance  darted  around  to 
his  ardent  face  and  back  to  her  mother  in  timid 
appeal.  Though  still  reluctant  to  yield,  Frau 
von  Kissel  smoothed  out  her  frown  and  even 
melted  to  a  half  smile. 

"  To  love  is  not  forbidden,  child,"  she  said. 


A  Bee  in  the  Honey  95 

"  Only  there  is  no  binding.     The  betrothal  can- 
not be  until  we  go  home  to  Berlin." 

"  But  I  shall  consider  myself  bound,"  pledged 
Thorpe,  and  he  kissed  his  trembling  captive  with- 
out waiting  for  the  parental  permission. 

The  faded  eyes  of  the  frau  suddenly  brimmed 
with  tears. 

"  Achl  ach!  "  she  sighed.  "  To  be  young  — 
to  love  —  how  joyous,  how  good!  " 

Elsa  uttered  a  cooing  little  cry  of  gladness 
and  pressed  her  blushing  cheek  against  Thorpe's 
shoulder.  He  led  her  out  through  the  open 
casement  window  and  down  the  terrace  steps  into 
the  rose  garden  where  he  had  won  the  confession- 
of  her  love. 

The  sanction  of  her  mother  had  cleared  the 
girl's  conscience  from  the  guilt  of  disobedience. 
Love  now  melted  the  last  barrier  of  her  maidenly 
shyness  —  a  love  so  innocent  that  it  felt  no 
restraint  of  false  modesty. 

"What  happiness  we  now  have!"  blissfully 
whispered  Elsa.  "  Would  that  everybody  were 
this  happy ! . . .  Poor  Kurt !  ' ' 

"  Ungrateful  Kurt,"  rallied  Thorpe.  "  Think 
how  kind  Loo  has  been  to  him.  Yet  he  goes 
around  glum  as  a  loser." 

"  If  you  could  but  cheer  him!  "  sighed  Elsa. 
"  I  cannot  understand  him.  First  I  thought  it 
was  because  he  had  not  the  pictures.  Yet  now 
that  I  have  given  them  to  him,  he  is  vexed 
with  me." 

"  Pictures?  "  idly  inquired  Thorpe,  his 
thoughts  centered  on  the  exquisite  tint  and 
texture  of  the  girl's  cheek. 


96  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Not  even  are  they  that  yet,"  she  replied, 
hardly  less  casually.  "It  is  the  kodak  film  for 
which  we  went  to  the  embassy  in  Paris.  Kurt 
was  so  fearful  it  might  make  trouble  for  Lucy. 
He  said  if  I  brought  it  to  him,  he  could  tell  if 
the  views  really  were  verboten." 

Thorpe  roused  to  sudden  interest.  * '  You  asked 
Loo  for  the  film,  and  she  let  you  have  it?  " 

The  girl  looked  up  at  him  with  a  trustful, 
unwavering  gaze  of  perfect  innocence. 

"  Nein.  I  took  it  without  her  knowledge.  Kurt 
feared  that  she  might  say  no.  I  did  not  like 
to  take  it  without  asking.  But  Kurt  said  the 
service  was  for  the  Fatherland.  Whatever  is 
done  to  serve  the  Fatherland  cannot  be  wrong. 
That  is  known  to  all.  —  Why  do  you  look  at 
me  so  strangely,  Allan?  " 

With  a  mental  wrench,  Thorpe  brought  him- 
self up  sharp  and  forced  a  reassuring  smile.  A 
kiss  completely  calmed  and  satisfied  the  girl. 

"  Come,"  he  said.  "  The  minutes  have  darted 
past  like  bees  honey-gathering.  We  must  not 
stay  longer,  else  the  mother  may  be  cross." 


CHAPTER  X 
A  THEFT  OF  HONOB 

After  wandering  about  through  many  suites 
of  the  great  chateau,  the  lovers  at  last  located 
Frau  von  Kissel.  She  had  gone  with  Lucy  to 
look  at  the  duke's  famous  collection  of  laces  and 
art  glass. 

"  Liebe  fraulein,  see,"  she  said.-  "  The  happy 
ones  come.  They  shall  give  you  thanks.  I  will 
tell  that  you  persuaded  me  to  forgive  their 
undutifulness. " 

There  was  a  suggestion  of  shadow  under 
Lucy's  eyes,  and  her  cheeks  lacked  their  usual 
rich  rose.  Yet  she  smiled  as  she  held  out  her 
hand  to  Thorpe. 

"  Congratulations,  Lan!  May  you  always  be 
as  happy  as  now!  " 

"  That's  like  you,  old  chum,"  he  replied  some- 
what absently.  "  Must  look  up  Kurt  —  tell  him 
the  news." 

He  dropped  Lucy's  hand  and  hurried  off.  The 
girl's  face  became  still  more  pallid.  Her  eyes 
hardened  to  the  cold  brightness  of  polished  jade. 

"  Fraulein!  "  complained  Elsa,  surprised  and 
hurt.  "  How  you  look!  Can  it  be  you  do  not 
wish  happiness  to  me  also?  " 

With  an  impulsiveness  utterly  unlike  her  usual 

97 


98  The  Blond  Beast 

cool  composure,  Lucy  flung  her  arms  about  the 
grieved  child-woman. 

Thorpe  found  Kurt  still  trying  to  kill  thought 
in  half-hearted  billiard  play.  He  sought  to 
lighten  the  blow  that  he  must  strike. 

"  Chop  off,  brother-to-be,"  he  ordered. 
"  There's  something. .  .But  first,  I  want  to  tell 
you  that  Barkis  is  willing,  and  the  mother  does 
not  object,  though  the  betrothal  must  wait  until 
our  return  to  Berlin." 

Kurt  dropped  his  cue  and  grasped  Thorpe's 
hand,  all  his  moody  dejection  overflooded  by  the 
wave  of  sympathetic  delight  that  welled  up  at 
the  first  intimation  of  the  good  news. 

"  I  knew  you'd  feel  that  way,"  Thorpe  broke 
in  on  the  fervid  congratulations.  "  You're  as 
square  a  pal  as  Loo. .  .Which  reminds  me.  I'm 
going  to  speak  now  not  only  as  a  friend  but  as 
your  brother  —  as  a  coming  member  of  the  fam- 
ily. Elsa  opened  her  heart  to  me.  You  under- 
stand how  that  was,  and  so  will  not  blame  her. 
Among  other  things,  she  told  me  about  the  film." 

Automatically  as  a  boxer's  reflex  to  a  blow, 
Kurt  drew  himself  up  to  military  rigidity,  heels 
clicking,  chin  out-thrust 

"  What  I  have  done  was  done  in  the  service  of 
the  Fatherland,"  he  declared.  "  That  is  enough 
for  me,  whatever  the  consequences." 

Thorpe  stared.  This  was  an  entirely  new  Kurt 
to  him. 

11  That's  rather  beyond  me,  old  man,"  he  said. 
"  Well,  what's  done  is  done.  Next  thing  is  to 
make  the  best  of  the  mess.  You've  had  your 
look  at  the  views.  Better  slip  the  film  back 


A  Theft  of  Honor  99 

again  before  Loo  takes  a  notion  to  look  for  it." 

"  I  have  my  orders.  The  views  are  verboten. 
They  must  be  delivered  to  the  Greater  Head- 
quarters." 

"  Must  be?  r'  Thorpe  caught  at  the  point. 
"  Then  you've  not  yet  sent  them?  " 

"  No,"  admitted  Kurt,  after  a  moment  of 
hesitancy. 

"  Thank  God!  "  ejaculated  Thorpe.  He  caught 
his  friend's  shoulder  in  a  hard  grip  and  looked 
straight  into  the  clear  blue  eyes  that  were  so 
like  Elsa's. 

"  Listen,  old  man.  You  know  the  saying  that 
a  blunder  is  worse  than  a  crime.  Your  Prussian 
secret  service  have  foozled  this  deal  from  the 
first.  They  may  know  German  psychology,  but 
what  they  do  not  know  about  the  people  of  other 
nations  would  fill  a  library.  You  remember  how 
Loo  felt  over  the  way  they  tried  to  bully  her. 
What  will  she  think  of  the  officer  and  gentleman 
who,  under  the  pretense  of  courtship,  took  advan- 
tage of  her  kindly  intimacy  —  of  her  friendly 
hospitality  —  to  steal  her  property?  " 

The  blow  struck  with  merciless  force,  but  it 
was  delivered  straight  from  the  shoulder,  and 
the  look  in  the  striker's  steady  eyes  told  of  the 
spirit  behind  it.  No  flame  of  anger  or  resent- 
ment flared  in  the  young  Prussian's  white  cheeks. 
He  flinched  before  the  sudden  dismaying  revela- 
tion of  how  persons  other  than  of  German  rear- 
ing must  regard  what  he  had  done. 

"  God  knows  —  God  knows  it  was  not  easy!  " 
he  groaned.  "Yet  my  orders... The  service 
of  the  Fatherland!  " 


100  The  Blond  Beast 

"You  believed  that  your  duty  required  you  to 
betray  a  friend  —  to  steal  from  the  woman  you 
love  —  from  a  friend  who  trusts  you?  No  won- 
der you  have  suffered!  I  see  it  all  now.  Poor 
old  Kurt ! . . .  Orders  —  this  crazy  idea  of  loyalty 

—  what  a  hell  for  you. .  .That  is,  if  you  haven't 
been  shamming  love." 

"Shamming!  You  can  think  that?"  — The 
tortured  man  stared  at  his  friend  in  an  agony 
of  reproach  and  appeal.  "  But  you  must  believe 
me!  Not  alone  loyal  service  —  the  fear  for  her 

—  Von  Pappheim  threatened...  " 

Thorpe's  convulsive  grip  relaxed.  His  eyes 
cleared. 

*>  Then  it  was  for  her  sake  —  to  save  her  1 
Now  I  can  understand.  Yet  for  you,  of  all  men, 
to  do  such  a  thing,  Kurt!  Had  you  only  asked 
her  for  the  film,  on  the  plea  that  to  turn  it  in 
would  help  your  career!  Ten  to  one,  there's 
nothing  really  harmful  in  the  views.  Now  is 
there?  Own  up." 

"  I  do  not  know,  Allan.  My  orders  were  to 
secure  the  film  from  —  from  the  accused  without 
her  knowledge,  and  to  bring  it  myself  to  Greater 
Headquarters,  undeveloped." 

This  time  Thorpe  put  a  hand  on  each  shoulder 
of  his  friend  with  a  clasp  as  sympathetic  as  it 
was  firm. 

'*  You're  in  a  tight  box,  old  man.  I  can  see 
that.  But  I  know  what  you  will  do,  now  that 
you  see  what  I  think  of  it  and  what  Lucy  would 
have  thought  if  you  had  gone  ahead  as  planned." 

' '  You  —  mean  —  that  I  —  " 

"  Who    wished    the    damnable    spy    work    on 


A  Theft  of  Honor  101 

you?  "  thrust  Thorpe.  "  Can't  you  see  the 
scheme!  She  had  refused  Von  Pappheim.  He 
knew  you  were  his  rival.  What  neater  revenge 
than  to  force  you  to  a  piece  of  treachery  that 
would  make  her  despise  you?  Will  you  permit 
him  to  use  you  as  a  cat's-paw?  Don't  tell  me 
they  haven't  enough  trained  spies  to  do  their 
dirty  work." 

"  No  service  for  the  Fatherland  can  be  dirty 
or  dishonorable,"  murmured  Kurt  as  if  reciting 
a  lesson  learned  by  rote. 

Thorpe  shot  his  last  bolt  — 

"  Is  this  a  real  service?  You  know  that  Loo 
is  not  a  spy.  Very  well.  As  long  as  she  keeps 
the  film,  Von  Pappheim  can  do  her  no  harm.  But 
what  if  you  send  it  to  him?  Will  he  not  cook 
up  a  case  from  the  views,  no  matter  how  inno- 
cent of  wrong  intention  she  was  in  taking  them? 
If  she  is  not  a  spy,  her  possession  of  the  film 
cannot  injure  Germany.  But  what  if  you  send 
it  to  Von  Pappheim  —  if  you  give  him  what  he 
may  be  able  to  misuse  as  proofs?  Are  alleged 
spies  never  railroaded?  " 

Kurt's  face  was  now  gray-white.  He  shud- 
dered. 

"  I  have  heard  rumors,"  he  muttered.  "  If 
the  High  Command  so  orders  —  a  secret  military 
trial  —  the  ax. . .  " 

"  My  God!  "  cried  Thorpe  and,  in  an  upflare 
of  fear-goaded  wrath,  he  gripped  the  arms  of 
his  friend.  "  You  think  that,  yet  would  hesitate 
for  an  instant?  Give  me  that  film,  or  I'll  take 
it  from  you!  " 

His  prisoner  clutched  at  an  inner  pocket. 


102  The  Blond  Beast 

"No  —  wait,  Allan.  ..My  word  of  honor  —  I 
shall  go  to  her.  After  she  has  developed  the 
views  she  may  permit. .  .But  no,  I  can  no  longer 
hope.  You  know  what  I  shall  be  required  to  do 
when  I  have  made  report  of  my  failure.  My 
one  wish  is  that  you  will  stay  in  the  Fatherland 
and  take  my  place  as  son  and  head  of  the 
family. ' ' 

"  But,  Kurt,  I  can't  believe  it!  "...Thorpe's 
unnerved  arms  fell  flaccidly  to  his  sides  —  "  The 
ax,  too!  You're  joking  —  you  must  be  joking! 
Germany,  of  all  countries  —  enlightened  Ger- 
many! " 

The  young  officer  left  him  groping  in  a  daze 
of  perplexity  over  this  paradox.  He  found  Lucy 
still  with  his  mother  and  sister. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Miss  Carew  alone." 

Quietly  as  he  spoke,  his  look  sent  Frau  von 
Kissel  hurrying  out  as  wonderstruck  and  fright- 
ened as  Elsa.  But  Lucy  gave  no  sign  that  she 
noticed  his  haggard  face  and  burning  eyes. 
There  was  no  change  in  her  tone  and  manner  — 

"  What  is  it,  Kurt?  Don't  tell  me  your  leave 
has  been  recalled." 

11  A  longer  leave  is  before  me,"  he  replied  — 
* '  a  leave  from  which  there  is  no  returning. 
That  is  nothing  of  itself.  The  bitterness  is  that 
I  shall  no  more  see  you." 

Lucy's  brows  lifted  inquiringly. 

11  A  poor  riddle,  is  it  not?  "  he  flecked  at 
himself.  "  Enough  of  it.  Now  for  the  plain 
truth.  Here  are  your  verboten  snapshots,  Miss 
Carew. '  * 

He  handed  over  the  little  box  that  had  held 


A  Theft  of  Honor  103 

the  film  during  its  journey  from  Berlin  to  Paris 
in  the  American  legation  dispatch-pouch.  Lucy's 
eyes  widened  ever  so  slightly  as  she  took  it  and 
turned  it  over  in  her  hand.  The  seal  was  still 
unbroken. 

11  Why,  of  all  things,"  she  murmured.  "  My 
absurd  little  white  elephant.  Where  could  I  have 
dropped  it!  " 

"  You  did  not,"  replied  Kurt,  stiffening  to 
tense  erectness.  "  I  spied  upon  you  —  I  stole 
the  film.  It  is  true  I  see  no  dishonor  in  that. 
High  above  all  else  is  loyalty  and  service  to  the 
Fatherland.  Yet  Allan  has  opened  my  eyes  to 
how  base,  how  treacherous  you  will  regard  my. 
act.  From  that  there  is  no  escape  —  and  I  shall 
be  the  one  to  pay,  ..No  more  about  me...  You 
and  the  Fatherland  —  '  * 

"  Stop!  "  broke  in  Lucy.  "  I  can't  even  guess 
—  You're  talking  like  a  crazy  man.  I  can't 
believe  you've  been  drinking." 

"  They  jeered  at  me  in  the  Student  Corps 
because  I  would  never  drink  to  intoxication.  No, 
I  am  sober,  and  I  am  not  crazed.  A  soldier  must 
obey,  whatever  the  consequences.  My  orders 
were  to  bring  that  film,  undeveloped,  to  Berlin. 
Allan  has  shown  me  that  I  must  ask  your  per- 
mission and  that  the  views  must  first  be  devel- 
oped to  make  certain  they  are  harmless." 

"How  can  they  be  otherwise — such  tiny 
snapshots'?  " 

* '  Unfortunately,  the  lens  of  your  little  camera 
is  of  the  most  perfect  German  make.  Most  of 
your  snapshots  can  be  magnified  to  a  very  large 
size.  If  these  disclose  the  details  of  the  howitzer 


104  The  Blond  Beast 

you  photographed,  the  secret  might  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  Fatherland's  enemies." 

"  Oh,  I  see. . . and  all  the  time  I  thought  it  only 
the  fussiness  of  your  verboten  cranks.  But  it 
was  their  own  fault.  Why  didn't  they  tell  me? 
...And  you!"  —  The  girl's  half  amused  smile 
vanished  in  the  sudden  straightening  of  her 
lovely  lips.  "  Why  did  you  not  ask  permission 
before  you  —  took?  " 

Miserable  as  were  the  young  officer's  eyes, 
their  straightforward  gaze  did  not  flinch  or 
waver. 

"  My  orders  were  to  secure  the  film  without 
your  knowledge." 

"  Your  orders?  Would  any  gentleman  give 
such  orders,  or  any  gentleman  carry  them  out?  " 

Kurt  quivered  as  if  lashed  in  the  face.  "  You 
have  power  to  make  me  suffer. .  .You  are  not  of 
the  Fatherland;  you  do  not  understand  that  I 
had  no  choice  but  to  obey." 

"  Then  why  have  you  returned  the  film  after 
doing  —  what  you  have  done?  " 

The  shrewd  query  pierced  the  barrier  of  pride 
and  shame  that  had  constrained  him.  Out  burst 
his  pent-up  emotion  in  a  flood  of  passionate 
entreaty : 

"  Lucy,  you  will,  you  must  believe  me!  Von 
Pappheim  said  that  vengeance  would  be  exacted 
against  you  if  the  film  were  not  secured.  My 
thought  was  not  alone  to  serve  the  Fatherland. 
No  less  was  it  to  save  you.  Can  you  doubt  my 
love,  when  for  you  I  have  failed  the  Fatherland 
—  have  disobeyed  the  orders  of  the  High  Com- 
mand, and  shall  pay  with  my  life?  " 


A  Theft  of  Honor  105 

Lucy  gazed  up  into  the  flaming  face  of  the 
young  officer,  shocked,  yet  as  incredulous  as  had 
been  Thorpe. 

"  Impossible!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Why,  even 
in  time  of  war,  soldiers  are  shot  only  for  deser- 
tion or  treason." 

"  You  are  American.  You  know  nothing  of 
military  laws  and  customs.  Among  our  officers 
death  is  considered  far  preferable  to  disgrace." 

"  Yet  you  say  you  spied  on  me.  You  took  my 
property  without  leave." 

"  For  the  Fatherland  and  for  you,  Lucy! 
Have  I  not  made  all  clear?  Only  now  Allan 
has  shown  me  my  fearful  mistake.  If  the  views 
had  come  into  Von  Pappheim's  hands  and  he 
had  found  in  them  proofs  on  which  to  base  an 
accusation  against  you ! . . .  " 

Lucy  casually  twisted  a  bit  of  old  lace  around 
the  film  package  and  scrutinized  the  creamy  mesh 
as  if  absorbed  in  puzzling  out  its  intricate  maze. 
Kurt  stood  at  rigid  attention,  his  suspense  more 
cruel  than  that  of  a  culprit  in  dock  awaiting  the 
judge's  sentence.  When  at  last  the  girl  looked 
up,  her  lips  were  half  curved  in  a  smile  of  com- 
passion and  sympathy. 

*  *  I  do  not  yet  understand  how  you  could  bring 
yourself  to  do  it,  Kurt.  I  am  certain,  though, 
that  you  would  not  intentionally  do  anything 
that  you  thought  in  the  least  dishonorable.  Per- 
haps it's  as  much  my  fault." 

"  Yours?  " 

"  My  willfulness. .  .It's  hard  to  believe  they 
would  force  you  to  do  what  you  say  you'd  have 
to  do.  Still,  if  there's  even  a  chance. .  .Here's 


106  The  Blond  Beast 

the  film.  Take  it  to  Herr  Count  von  Pappheim, 
with  my  compliments  on  his  silliness." 

Kurt  drew  back  from  the  proffered  prize  as  if 
it  had  been  an  adder. 

11  But  you  do  not  understand,"  he  remon< 
strated.  "  Allan  pointed  out  to  me  the  trap." 

"  Lanf  " 

"  Yes.  If  the  views  are  harmful,  Von  Papp- 
heim will  use  them  as  proof  that  you  are  a 
dangerous  spy." 

Lucy  smiled  ironically.  "  What  of  it?  They 
can't  touch  me  outside  Germany,  and  I  don't 
have  to  go  back." 

"  Yet  if  you  do  not!  "  exclaimed  Kurt,  his 
voice  a-quiver  with  dread  and  longing.  "  Never 
then  will  I  have  any  chance  to  win  you!  And 
it  is  not  true  that  you  would  be  safe  in  other 
lands  —  no,  not  even  in  your  own. .  .Listen,  dear- 
est fraulein!  There  is  one  way  —  one  only. 
Destroy  this  fatal  film  before  witnesses  —  before 
the  mother  and  Elsa,  Allan  and  myself.  Then 
become  my  betrothed.  They  will  make  my  pun- 
ishment for  disobedience  light,  for  I  shall  have 
saved  the  verboten  views  from  our  enemies  and 
won  you  over  to  loyalty  to  the  Fatherland  —  and 
we  shall  be  happy!  " 

Had  he  asked  only  for  the  destruction  of  the 
film  Lucy  would  have  complied.  She  might  even 
have  gone  further  and  yielded  to  the  ardent 
entreaty  of  his  proposal.  Her  own  suffering 
made  her  all  the  more  sympathetic  with  his 
evident  yearning  for  her.  She  had  already  given 
him  her  affection  —  and  now  the  realization  that 
he  was  in  danger  of  death  or  disgrace  because 


A  Theft  of  Honor  107 

of  what  she  had  done  filled  her  generous  heart 
with  pity  and  salami. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  hesitant,  her  decision 
trembling  in  a  balance.  Suddenly,  in  a  flash, 
the  full  import  of  Kurt's  remarks  came  home  to 
her.  He  had  said  she  would  not  be  safe  even  in 
her  own  country!  How  dare  any  government 
make  such  a  threat!  All  of  Lucy's  independ- 
ence and  high  spirit  welled  up  within  her. 

Her  kind,  almost  tender  look  of  commiseration 
hardened. 

"  I'll  not  be  scared  into  an  engagement  nor 
into  destroying  my  snapshots,"  she  gave  him  her 
answer. 

*  *  But  —  but  to  save  yourself,  dearest  Lucy !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  know  your  own  safety  is  a  secondary 
matter  with  you,  Kurt,  and  I  shall  bear  that  in 
mind.  I'll  not  give  up  my  film  before  I  know 
whether  the  views  really  are  harmful.  Of  course 
I've  waited.  It  wouldn't  have  been  fair  to  let 
a  French  photographer  do  the  developing.'* 

"  That  was  most  kind  of  you,  and  I  can  tell 
the  High  Command  of  it  in  proof  of  your  inno- 
cence of  all  wrong  intent." 

Lucy  shrugged. 

"  It's  all  their  fault,  making  a  serious  matter 
out  of  a  trifle.  I  will  develop  the  film  myself. 
If  the  views  are  so  harmless  that  you  believe 
the  herr  count  cannot  use  them  against  me,  you 
may  take  the  negatives  to  him.  But  if  they  are 
dangerous,  I'll  neither  give  them  up  nor 
destroy  them.  I  will  put  them  in  a  safe 
place,  with  directions  that  they  are  to  be 
turned  over  to  the  French  military  authorities 


108  The  Blond  Beast 

if  the  least  injury  is  done  to  you  or  to  myself." 
"  Lucy!  "  cried  the  young  officer,  between  con- 
sternation over  the  danger  to  his  beloved  Father- 
land and  admiration  for  the  girl's  clever  scheme 
to  baffle  Von  Pappheim. 

"  That's  my  answer,"  she  said.  "  The  sooner 
we  find  out,  the  better.  You  might  ask  Lan  to 
take  a  spin  to-morrow  morning  and  see  if  he  can 
get  me  a  kodak  developer.  I  tried  in  Sezanne, 
when  you  were  at  the  garage.  But  they  did  not 
seem  to  have  the  kodak  tanks." 


CHAPTER  XI 
SHADOWS 

Dismissed  by  Lucy,  Kurt  returned  in  haste  to 
his  friend.  As  he  poured  out  without'  reserve  all 
that  had  passed  between  him  and  the  girl  he 
loved,  his  blue  eyes  shifted  their  glances  about 
as  if  fearful  of  eavesdroppers. 

At  the  close  of  the  hurried  recital  Thorpe 
smiled  his  appreciation  of  Lucy's  shrewd  solving 
of  the  dilemma. 

"  Always  suspected  that  Loo  was  pretty  well 
all  there.  Strikes  me  this  move  means  stale- 
mate, if  not  checkmate,  for  friend  Papp." 

11  May  mean,"  qualified  Kurt,  more  nervous 
than  before.  "  The  thought  has  come  to  me  that 
I  myself  may  be  shadowed.  I  know  little  about 
secret  service  work,  but  IVe  heard  the  saying, 
'  Set  a  spy  to  watch  a  spy.'  Von  Pappheim 
intimated  that  if  I  were  too  slow,  assistance 
might  be  sent  to  help  secure  the  film." 

Thorpe  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  You  say  she  couldn't  get  a  development  tank 
in  Sezanne ...  Suppose  we  hit  out  at  once?  We 
can  make  Vitry  or  Chalons  by  dark.  Your 
shadow  —  if  there's  one  hanging  'round  here  — 
will  think  you  have  lifted  the  loot  and  are  flitting. 
While  I  order  out  the  car,  you  can  tell  Loo  to 

109 


110  The  Blond  Beast 

lock  up  the  film.  Pass  the  word  around  that 
you're  suddenly  called  away  on  official  business." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  friends  came  out  to 
the  car,  followed  by  a  servant  with  Kurt's  suit- 
case and  bag.  They  found  Henri  chatting  volubly 
with  one  of  the  castle  chauffeurs  who  had  pre- 
viously called  himself  to  the  attention  of  the 
visitors  as  a  Swiss  from  one  of  the  German- 
speaking  cantons.  He  stepped  back  and  stood 
at  attention,  as  blank-faced  and  deferential  as  a 
waiter. 

Thorpe  directed  Henri  to  drive  to  Chalons  with 
all  haste,  as  Lieutenant  von  Kissel  wished  to 
reach  that  city  as  soon  as  possible.  He  looked 
significantly  at  the  bag  and  suitcase,  and  jumped 
into  the  tonneau  after  Kurt. 

As  Henri  whirled  the  car  off  around  the  drive, 
Thorpe's  backward  look  glimpsed  the  other 
chauffeur  running  towards  the  garage. 

"  Thought  so,  old  man.  That  wooden-faced 
Swiss  watch  has  been  keeping  tick  on  you  —  he 's 
your  shadow.  Must  be  scooting  to  phone.  Can't 
expect  to  overhaul  us  himself,  after  what  I  said 
to  Henri.  But  a  phone  message  —  Suppose  we 
switch  to  Vitry?  Might  be  awkward  results  if 
one  of  your  secret  service  men  saw  us  go  into  a 
photographer's. ' ' 

"  No.  We  might  have  to  pass  through  the 
Camp  de  Mailly,  the  great  French  maneuver 
grounds.  My  orders  do  not  require  me  to  obtain 
information  in  that  line,"  replied  the  young 
Prussian,  with  the  first  trace  of  bitterness  that 
Thorpe  had  ever  known  him  to  display. 

Nothing   could   have  proved   more   positively 


Shadows  111 

that  spy-work  was  repugnant  to  his  fine  high- 
strung  spirit.  Thorpe  glanced  back,  but  did  not 
change  the  directions  he  had  given  to  Henri. 

The  car  was  already  out  through  the  main 
gates  and  sweeping  around  the  sharp  curves  of 
the  road  that  wound  down  the  hillside.  From 
the  last  turn  that  gave  Thorpe  a  view  of  the 
gates  he  saw  a  motorcyclist  whiz  out  of  the 
chateau  grounds. 

"  Look!  "  he  called  Kurt's  attention.  "  Your 
Swiss  watch  has  a  fast  movement.  —  Touch  her 
up  a  notch,  Henri.  You  don't  fancy  you're  haw- 
geeing  an  ox-cart,  do  .you?  " 

"  What's  the  use?  "  said  Kurt.  "  No  touring 
car  can  out-race  a  good  motorcycle." 

"  We'll  at  least  give  him  a  run  for  his  money," 
replied  Thorpe  as  he  jammed  his  hat  on  tighter. 

The  car  had  whirled  out  of  the  trees,  around 
the  last  return  curve  that  brought  it  to  the  foot 
of  the  castle  hill.  A  mile  or  two  west  was  the 
main  road  that  ran  north  from  Sezanne,  down 
across  the  Marshes  of  St.  Gond  and  on  through 
a  forest,  to  Epernay  on  the  Marne.  Henri  turned 
east,  towards  Fere  Champenoise  and  Vitry.  The 
last  down-swoop  gave  the  car  full  headway.  At 
a  mile  a  minute  clip  it  took  the  long,  easy,  wind- 
ing upgrade.  It  was  still  on  high,  booming  along 
nearly  forty  miles  an  hour,  when  it  came  up 
among  the  rolling  pine-clad  hills  of  the  plateau. 

But  the  expectancy  in  Kurt's  backward  glance 
was  justified.  The  pursuing  motorcycle  whizzed 
up  the  last  rise  at  a  speed  that  fast  overhauled 
the  car.  Thorpe  instinctively  doubled  his  fist. 
Kurt  half  drew  his  service  automatic  pistol. 


112  The  Blond  Beast 

Though  the  motorcycle  rider  wore  big  green 
goggles,  his  identity  was  unmistakable  as  his 
machine  came  roaring  up  behind  the  car.  Yet 
Thorpe  and  Kurt  could  not  see  that  he  so  much 
as  glanced  at  them.  He  whirled  alongside  and 
rocketed  ahead  along  the  level  road  at  fully 
sixty-five  miles  an  hour.  Thorpe  shouted  for 
Henri  to  keep  the  motorcyclist  in  sight.  With 
a  roar  from  the  opened  cut-out,  the  powerful  car 
leaped  forward  like  a  dynosaur  in  chase  of  its 
prey. 

Yet  still  the  motorcycle  gained.  It,  too,  had 
put  on  speed.  After  a  few  whirlwind  miles,  it 
was  almost  out  of  sight  when  it  came  to  a  fork 
in  the  road.  The  pursuers  saw  it  swerve  south- 
eastwards  towards  the  village  of  Fere  Champe- 
noise  and  shoot  on  with  no  lessening  of  its  terrific 
speed. 

A  few  moments  later  Henri  approached  the 
fork  at  rapidly  slackening  speed.  He  turned  to 
the  northeast.  Kurt  jerked  out  his  French  road 
map. 

"  Donnerwetter!  "  he  ejaculated.  "  That  fire- 
devil  is  heading  straight  for  Camp  de  Mailly. 
Can  it  be  he  is  a  French  spy  —  not  German!  " 

"  All  the  more  reason,  if  that's  true,  for  you 
to  loop  the  loop  while  I  warn  Loo.  They  can't 
jail  you  for  making  the  little  trip.  You  took 
out  your  passports  as  a  Prussian  officer,  and 
they'll  find  on  you  nothing  out  of  the  way." 

"  Yes,  there  is  that  to  be  thankful  for.  I  have 
been  spared  what  is  usually  required  of  our 
officers  in  foreign  lands.  In  his  eagerness  to 
trap  Lucy,  Von  Pappheim  omitted  the  general 


Shadows  113 

order  for  me  to  bring  back  all  obtainable  mili- 
tary information.  —  What  now?  " 

After  passing  the  fork  in  the  road,  the  car, 
instead  of  jumping  back  to  racing  speed,  had 
slowed.  Henri  stopped  and  sprang  out  to  look 
at  the  engine.  Thorpe  hastened  to  offer  assist- 
ance, but  many  minutes  were  lost  before  the 
trouble  was  located  in  an  oil-fouled  magneto 
connection.  As  a  result,  dusk  was  deepening 
into  nightfall  when  the  car  rolled  across  the 
Marne  bridge  into  the  narrow  streets  of  Chalons. 

A  threat  of  rain  suggested  to  Thorpe  that  he 
borrow  Henri's  chauffeur  raincoat  and  cap.  In 
this  simple  yet  effective  disguise  he  followed 
Kurt  into  the  railway  station,  to  make  certain 
of  his  friend's  safe  departure.  Hardly  had  they 
taken  their  places  in  the  crowded  ticket  line 
when  a  man  dressed  as  a  motorcyclist  shouldered 
brusquely  between  them. 

With  half  averted  eyes,  Thorpe  cast  a  sidelong 
glance,  expecting  to  see  the  wooden  face  of  the 
castle  chauffeur.  What  he  perceived  wrung 
from  him  a  startled  exclamation.  He  covered 
with  a  murmured  protest  in  French  that  caused 
the  intruder's  spectacled  glance  to  turn  away 
with  contemptuous  indifference.  Though  the 
man's  cheeks  had  been  stained  olive,  his  mus- 
tache waxed  down  in  Spanish  points,  and  his 
eyes  hidden  behind  the  dust  goggles,  there  was 
no  mistaking  that  hatchet  face  and  tall,  arro- 
gantly erect  figure. 

Close  listening  about  the  racket  and  clamor 
of  the  station  brought  to  Thorpe's  ears 
snatches  of  the  remarks  that  Von  Papp- 


114  The  Blond  Beast 


helm  hurriedly  muttered  to  Kurt  in  English: 
"You  bring  the  film. .  .good. .  .about  to... 
after  you. .  .complete  Mailly  plans,  but  could 
not. .  .Verdun. .  .less  than  a  week  now  until... 
secret  mobilization. .  .the  seventeenth...  " 

The  line  had  moved  along.  Kurt  bought  his 
ticket,  not  to  the  German  frontier,  as  planned, 
but  to  Charleroi,  in  Belgium.  While  Von  Papp- 
heim,  affecting  a  Spanish  accent,  booked  passage 
to  Liege,  the  younger  officer  stepped  back  of  him 
and  scribbled  a  few  words  on  a  visiting  card. 
He  slipped  the  message  into  Thorpe 's  hand  and 
gave  him  a  nudge  to  hurry  off.  He  then  riveted 
Von  Pappheim's  attention  upon  himself  by  dash- 
ing for  a  train.  Thorpe  slipped  away  in  the 
opposite  direction  and  hastened  to  read  the  mes- 
sage in  the  nearest  secluded  corner. 

At  first  glance  the  writing  seemed  to  be  an 
unmeaning  jumble  — 

"  Sienkiewicz  Noah  Swiss  Ararat  wings." 
But  he  puzzled  only  a  few  moments  over  the 
imprumptu    code    before    he    caught    the    clue. 
"  Noah  "  and  "  Ararat  "  suggested  the  Flood, 
otherwise   "The   Deluge"  —  that   terrible   war 
novel  of  the  Polish  writer  Sienkiewicz.    Instantly 
the  interpretation  of  the  entire  message  flashed 
out  with  startling  clearness : 
"  War  deluge.    Flee  to  Switzerland." 
There  had  been  no  need  to  mention  Frau  von 
Kissel  and  the  girls.    The  purpose  of  the  flight 
would  of  course  be  to  save  the  ladies  —  the  Ger- 
man ones   in  particular  —  from  the   annoyance 
or  danger  of  detention  in  the  midst  of  a  hostile 
nation.     What   Thorpe  had   overheard  of  Von 


Shadows  115 

Pappheim's  talk  served  to  piece  out  the  picture. 
One  of  the  big  Powers  was  already  secretly 
mobilizing.  A  declaration  of  war  might  be 
expected  within  a  week.  Von  Pappheim  had 
been  spying  at  Camp  de  Mailly,  but  had  failed 
to  get  plans  of  the  mighty  fortress  of  Verdun. 

Thorpe's  first  impulse  was  to  order  Henri 
about  for  the  return  trip  at  breakneck  speed. 
But  he  knew  Lucy.  She  had  sent  for  a  develop- 
ing '  tank.  With  the  help  of  Henri,  he  hunted 
Chalons  until  he  found  an  open  photo-supply 
shop  that  had  in  stock  the  desired  tank  and 
chemicals. 

The  return  trip  required  nearly  three  hours. 
On  arriving  at  the  castle,  Thorpe  learned  that 
madame  and  the  mademoiselles  had  retired,  and 
he  decided  not  to  disturb  them. 

Early  in  th.e  morning  Elsa  appeared  at  the 
breakfast  table  •beaming  and  blushing  with 
delight.  She  was  as  fresh  and  lovely  as  any 
dew-gemmed  bud  in  the  rose  garden.  The  French 
butler  discreetly  withdrew  at  the  first  hint  that 
his  services  were  not  required.  Thorpe  gave 
himself  over  to  the  bliss  of  the  brief  half  hour 
alone  with  his  darling.  He  said  nothing  about 
Kurt's  message.  To  have  dashed  the  joyous 
spirits  of  the  dear  girl  would  have  been  cruel. 

All  too  soon  Lucy  sent  word  that  she  and 
Frau  von  Kissel  were  waiting  to  hear  about 
Kurt.  Elsa  accompanied  Thorpe  to  the  boudoir. 
Frau  von  Kissel,  primly  costumed  for  the  day, 
was  attacking  a  hearty  German  breakfast  of 
sausages  and  boiled  cabbage,  while  Lucy  lolled 
in  a  lacy  negligee,  neglectful  of  her  French  roll 


116  The  Blond  Beast 

and  coffee.  She  took  the  kodak  developing  tank 
from  Thorpe  and  handed  it  to  Marcelle,  with 
a  word  of  smiling  dismissal. 

"  Where's  Kurt?  "  she  broke  in  on  Thorpe's 
dutiful  greeting  to  his  promised  mother-in-law. 
"  I  wish  to  develop  that  nuisance  of  a  film  as 
soon  as  possible.  It's  beginning  to  get  on  my 
nerves. ' ' 

"  He  took  the  train  for  Belgium, "  said  Thorpe. 
"I'm  afraid  he  has  been  recalled  by  Von  Papp- 
heim  and  can't  come  back  at  all  —  unless  with 
the  German  army  —  which  means  never." 

He  showed  Kurt's  card.  His  interpretation  of 
the  words,  coupled  with  what  he  had  heard  of 
Von  Pappheim's  talk,  drew  many  "  Achs!  "  from 
Elsa  and  her  mother.  But  while  the  girl  was 
readily  reassured  by  Thorpe's  disbelief  that 
actual  danger  of  war  impended,  Frau  von  Kissel 
was  not  to  be  consoled. 

"  Krieg!  krieg!  "  she  moaned  over  her  last 
sausage.  "Mem  lieber  Kurtzie!  Der  Tag  is 
set!  " 

"  But  that's  absurd,"  remonstrated  Lucy.  "  I 
agree  with  Lan.  You  know  how  Kurt  insists 
that  the  Kaiser  can  and  will  keep  Europe  from 
being  so  silly.  Haven't  we  peace  treaties  and 
the  Hague  Court  to  settle  all  disputes  between 
nations?  War  is  out  of  date." 

Frau  von  Kissel  swallowed  a  mouthful  of 
cabbage. 

* '  You  are  Americanisch  —  you  do  not  under- 
stand. The  baroness  wrote  that  all  harvesting 
had  ceased.  Now  I  see  why.  The  secret  mobili- 
zation has  taken  all  the  young  peasants.  —  We 


Shadows  117 

go  home  quick  by  Switzerland,  as  Kurt  has  given 
command.  Have  your  car  ready,  liebe  fraulein. 
—  Elsa,  haste  to  pack  for  our  journey." 

"  There's  not  the  slightest  need  to  hurry," 
interposed  Lucy.  "I'm  sure  that  herr  count 
lied  just  to  keep  Kurt  from  us  —  and  rain  may 
have  stopped  your  German  harvesting.  Here 
is  last  evening's  English  paper  from  Paris. 
Look —  Saturday,  July  twenty-fifth.  Not  a  line 
about  any  chance  of  war.  Just  the  contrary. 
England  and  Germany  both  have  been  advising 
Serbia  to  comply  with  all  the  exactions  of  the 
Austrian  ultimatum.  Now  the  poor  little  fellow 
has  eaten  his  crow.  He  has  gone  down  on  his 
knees  to  the  big  bully.  The  diplomats  say  that 
the  danger  is  all  over  with." 

"  Good,"  said  Thorpe.  "  I  couldnt  believe 
war  possible." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Lucy.  "  See  —  Here's  the 
great  French  leader  Jaures  declaring  that  the 
French  and  German  peoples  are  comrades  and 
brothers. ' ' 

"  Social-democrat  schweine!  "  denounced  Frau 
von  Kissel.  "  Wait  and  see.  Those  who  do  not 
fight  for  our  God-given  Kaiser  shall  be  shot 
down  like  dogs." 

"  Ja,  they  would  be  traitors  to  our  holy 
Emperor!  "  murmured  Elsa. 

A  slight  gesture  by  Lucy  saved  Thorpe  from 
an  indiscreet  remonstance.  She  smiled  at  the 
flushed  devotees  of  divine  right. 

"I'm  social,  and  my  father  was  a  Democrat, 
but  let  us  have  peace  at  our  war  council,"  she 
rallied.  ( (  Now,  about  going,  there  are  two  things 


118  The  Blond  Beast 

—  I  may  never  again  have  the  chance  to  be  the 
chatelaine  of  a  chateau  minus  the  encumbrance 
of  a  marital  attachment.  We're  far  too  com- 
fortable here  to  think  of  running  —  if  Kurt  was 
lied  to  by  herr  count." 

' '  Nein,  nein,  f raulein !  ' '  exclaimed  the  shocked 
frau.  "  Herr  Count  von  Pappheim  is  too  high- 
born to  lie  to  even  a  lower  officer.  Der  Tag  is 
set.  We  shall  have  kreig." 

11  That's  German  for  *  war/  isn't  it?  Well, 
then,  here's  the  other  thing  —  If  you  people  of 
Europe  are  so  crazy  as  to  go  to  fighting  each 
other,  I  propose  to  keep  out  of  the  mess,  like  a 
good  American.  There's  herr  count  and  those 
ridiculous  verboten  snapshots  to  make  me  keep 
clear  of  Germany  until  —  ' ' 

"  No  doubt  that's  why  Kurt  suggested  Switzer- 
land," broke  in  Thorpe.  He  knows  that  the  little 
republic  will  be  an  Ararat  of  peace  in  the  midst 
of  the  war  deluge." 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  care  to  be  in  the  midst. 
The  flood  might  rise  too  high  —  if  the  diplo- 
matic engineers  are  foolish  enough  to  let  the 
dam  break  at  all.  Kurt  once  told  me  that  the 
neutrality  of  Belgium  is  absolutely  guaranteed 
by  France  and  England  and  Germany.  If  I  have 
to  leave  my  ducal  castle,  I  shall  go  there." 

Thorpe  held  up  the  card  message.  "  Must  be 
sweltering  down  in  the  Belgian  lowlands,"  he 
said.  "  No  place  in  Europe  cooler  now  than 
the  Alps." 

•"  Ja,  f  raulein,"  added  Frau  von  Kissel. 
"  Besides,  has  not  Kurt  given  command  for  us?  " 

"  By  what  right?  "  demanded  Lucy,  her  eyes 


Shadows  ,  119 

flashing  dangerously  at  Thorpe.  "  I  am  not  a 
German  frau —  as  yet.  If  I  leave  here  at  all, 
I  choose  to  go  towards  the  coast,  where  I  shall 
be  free  to  sail  home  whenever  I  wish." 

"  All  right,"  Thorpe  hastened  to  agree.  "  It 
doesn't  matter,  just  so  we  get  into  territory 
certain  to  remain  neutral.  Tante  and  Elsa  can 
cross  the  German  frontier  from  Belgium  as  easily 
as  from  Switzerland,  and  we  can  all  tour  Belgium 
together,  if  the  war  scare  blows  over  —  as  no 
doubt  it  will.  Only  I  know  how  Kurt  would 
worry  if  we  should  leave  you  alone,  here  in  a 
country  that,  ten  to  one,  will  be  in  the  fight,  if 
there  is  one." 

II  Yes,  if  there  is  a  fight,"  Lucy  repeated  the 
qualification. 

II 1  could  hurry  Elsa  and  Tante  straight  into 
Germany  by  way  of  Chalons  and  Verdun,  or  the 
Vitry-Nancy  route.     But  —  you  would  then  be 
without  a  chaperon,  Loo.     I  couldn't  very  well 
come  back." 

Lucy  smiled  ironically  and  looked  up  at  the 
angelic  face  of  Elsa,  "  That's  true,  Lan,  And, 
anyway,  why  should  you?  " 

"  Because  you're  my  countrywoman  and  my 
—  old  chum!  "  he  rejoined  wdth  unexpected  heat. 
"  Come  now,  Loo.  It's  hard  to  tear  yourself 
away  from  this  soft  snap,  I  know.  But  be  a 
sport.  Make  it  Belgium  with  us.  You  know 
how  we'd  miss  you." 

The  girl's  eyes  sank  before  his  eager  affection- 
ate gaze. 

"  Well,  I'm  not  sure.  I'll  see  —  if  you  don't 
try  to  rush  me  too  much,"  she  murmured. 


CHAPTER  XII 
QUI  VIVE? 

Fran  von  Kissel  promptly  hurried  Elsa  off  to 
begin  their  packing.  Thorpe  sauntered  from  the 
boudoir  and,  once  clear,  headed  swiftly  for  the 
garage.  He  soon  had  Henri  and  the  garage  men 
hard  at  work  overhauling  Lucy's  car. 

At  luncheon  all  appeared  in  their  motoring 
costumes,  except  Lucy.  She  wore  one  of  her 
most  fragile  house  dresses, 

"  Going  for  a  spin?  "  she  bantered. 

"  No,  we  thought  that  you  —  But  don't  think 
we're  trying  to  push  you,  Loo,"  Thorpe  cut 
in  ahead  of  Frau  von  Kissel.  "  If  you  really 
don't  feel  like  starting  to-day —  " 

"  Do  not  say  it,  Allant,"  reproached  the  frau. 
"  Better  should  we  urge  the  liebe  fraulein  to 
hasten. .  .Ach,  Loocee,  the  French  are  a  low, 
treacherous,  degenerate  folk,  altogether  unlike 
our  noble,  high  Deutsch  race.  I  fear  much  for 
you  and  Elsa  should  war  overtake  us  among 
them." 

Lucy  smiled. 

"  You  talk  as  if  we  were  living  in  the  Dark 
Ages  or  the  Balkans.  If  Europe  is  so  crazy  as  to 
go  to  war,  your  country  will  show  what  its  Jcultur 
means,  and  the  others  will  respond  in  kind  —  and 

120 


Qui  Vive?  121 

kindness.  It  will  at  least  be  a  civilized  war.  No 
harm  will  be  done  to  women  and  children  and 
the  aged/' 

"  French  women  and  children  and  aged  are  as 
bad  as  French  men,"  asserted  the  high-born 
frau.  "  As  for  the  Russians,  they  are  all 
schweinhunds,  male  and  female.  God  made  them 
so." 

"  Well,  I  find  the  bad  French  very  polite  and 
agreeable,"  said  Lucy.  "  Besides,  I  don't  like 
to  miss  our  Sunday  dinner.  But  to-morrow,  if 
you  really  are  afraid . . .  Not  that  I  see  the  slight- 
est cause  for  alarm.  I'm  more  than  ever  con- 
vinced that  the  herr  count  was  only  ragging 
Kurt. .  .You're  quite  sure,  Lan,  that  Kurt  won't 
come  back?  " 

11  There's  a  bare  possibility  he  may,  after 
this  war  crisis  —  if  it  is  a  crisis  —  subsides.  But 
all  the  chances  are  that  his  leave  has  been 
cancelled. ' ' 

"  Then  there's  something  I'd  like  your  opin- 
ion on,  if  Frau  von  Kissel  will  kindly  excuse 
us  —  You,  too,  my  dear. ' ' 

Elsa  and  her  mother  murmured  their  compli- 
ance, and  rather  uneasily  watched  the  liebe  frau- 
lein  bear  away  Thorpe.  She  was  a  willful 
fraulein  and  she  was  American,  a  combination 
doubly  difficult  for  their  Teutonic  minds  to 
comprehend. 

Lucy  unlocked  a  vault  in  the  thick  stone  wall 
of  the  castle,  at  one  end  of  her  suite.  She  took 
out  the  negatives  developed  from  the  verb ot en 
film.  Thorpe  saw  that  three  were  general  views 
of  Krupp  factory  interiors.  The  rest  pictured 


122  The  Blond  Beast 

the  whole  and  various  details  of  a  monstrous 
squat  cannon,  of  a  type  he  had  never  before 
seen. 

"  Hello/'  he  said.  "  This  must  be  one  of  the 
new  howitzers  that  the  German  militarists  have 
kept  hidden  but  have  been  bragging  about  —  just 
as  they  have  blurbed  over  their  Zeppelins." 

"  Would  you  say  these  snapshots  are  harm- 
ful? "  asked  Lucy. 

Thorpe  handed  them  back,  with  a  doubtful 
shake  of  his  head. 

1  *  If  enlarged,  they  might  reveal  valuable  infor- 
mation. Can't  say.  I'm  no  army  man." 

"  Then  I  shall  do  what  I  told  Kurt  — leave 
them  here,  addressed  to  Polly's  husband,  the 
duke,  but  not  to  be  opened  unless  he  hears  of 
the  Germans  having  harmed  Kurt  or  myself." 

"  Good  idea,"  approved  Thorpe.  "  I  always 
suspected  you  had  brains,  Loo." 

"  Maybe  I  have,  but  —  I  haven't  always  used 
them,"  murmured  the  girl.  She  turned  away 
brusquely.  "  That's  all.  Go  back  to  your 
indigo-eyed  angel." 

Thorpe  went  off,  not  a  little  puzzled  and 
ruffled  by  her  curt  dismissal.  His  afternoon  and 
evening  were  not  as  pleasant  as  they  might  have 
been.  Frau  von  Kissel  kept  Elsa  near  her  and 
fretted  over  the  delay  in  the  departure.  Kurt 
had  expressed  his  will.  Not  to  go  at  once  was 
most  wrong. .  .Perhaps  to  escape  these  com- 
plaints, Lucy  appeared  only  in  time  to  share  the 
Sunday  feast  prepared  by  the  chateau's  chef. 
After  the  dessert  she  again  left  her  guests  alone. 

In  the  morning  Frau  von  Kissel  appeared  at 


Qui  Vive?  123 

the  breakfast  table  as  early  as  Elsa  and  quite  as 
ready  for  the  trip.  Her  usual  phlegmatic  placid- 
ity had  long  been  lost  in  a  whirl  of  agitation 
when,  past  mid-morning,  Lucy  at  last  came  on 
the  scene. 

"  I've  been  repacking  all  the  trunks  I  ordered 
sent  on  from  Paris,"  she  explained.  "  They 
must  be  ready  fer  shipment  to  me,  in  case  I 
don't  come  back  to  play  chatelaine  again." 

"  Ach,  fraulein,  once  escaped  from  this  land 
of  frog  and  snail  eaters,  you  must  never  venture 
to  return  among  the  low  chatter-apes,"  urged 
Frau  von  Kissel.  "  I  fear  more  every  moment." 

Lucy  took  pity  upon  her  panic-stricken  guest  — 
"  If  you'll  order  out  the  car,  Lan." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  visitors  passed  out 
through  the  gateway  of  the  grand  chateau  as 
they  had  entered  it,  with  the  exception  that 
Kurt's  seat  in  the  car  was  unoccupied. 

A  leisurely  trip  brought  them  to  Chalons  early 
in  the  afternoon.  After  luncheon  in  a  quaint 
provincial  cafe,  Lucy  smiled  apologetically  at 
Frau  von  Kissel. 

"  I  do  so  wish  to  shop  a  bit.  That  would  mean 
stopping  overnight.  Perhaps  it's  a  mistake  — 
our  Belgian  tour.  Lan  could  take  you  and  Elsa 
by  train,  straight  through  to  your  own  frontier, 
in  a  few  hours. ' y 

But  the  fact  that  the  trip  was  under  way  had 
quieted  the  frau's  panic.  Lack  of  any  excite- 
ment on  the  part  of  the  volatile  French  continued 
to  lull  her  apprehensions.  She  lay  abed  the  next 
forenoon,  while  Thorpe  and  the  girls  visited  the 
magnificent  Gothic  cathedral  where  Joan  of  Arc 


124  The  Blond  Beast 

brought  to  be  crowned  the  weakling  whose  king- 
dom she  had  saved. 

Upon  their  return  to  the  hotel,  the  tourists  for 
the  first  time  learned  of  Austria's  astounding 
declaration  of  war  on  Serbia, 

Yet  still  the  French  and  their  newspapers 
remained  calm.  It  was  believed  that  the  trouble 
would  be  localized — perhaps  another  Balkan  war 
would  be  staged,  with  obstreperous  little  Serbia 
for  victim.  Even  Frau  von  Kissel  was  com- 
pletely reassured. 

Instead  of  hurrying  out  of  France,  the  tourists 
leisurely  traveled  west  to  Soissons,  crossed  to 
the  north  of  the  Aisne,  and  meandered  back 
eastwards  along  the  Chemin  des  Dames. 

The  second  of  August  found  them  loitering 
among  the  beautiful  forested  hills  of  the 
Ardennes. .  .But  even  this  peaceful  remote  coun- 
tryside was  jarred  by  the  first  thunderclap  of 
the  out-roaring  war  storm  — 

Mid-afternoon  the  car's  passage  through  one 
of  the  larger  villages  was  blocked  by  a  massed 
crowd  of  gaping,  chattering  peasants  clustered 
before  the  mairie.  In  response  to  Henri's  sharp 
queries,  scores  of  loud  tongues  clacked  the  news, 
to  the  accompaniment  of  long-drawn  "  0-oo-la 
las!  "  —  Belgrade  bombarded  by  the  Austrians; 
Jaures,  the  pacifist,  murdered  in  Paris;  war  de- 
clared by  Germany  on  Russia;  general  order  of 
mobilization  throughout  France. . . 

Henri  rose  in  his  seat  and  faced  about  to  the 
tonneau,  transformed  in  a  twinkling  from  a 
rather  subservient  mechanic  to  an  erect,  flashing- 
eyed  soldier. 


Qui  Vive?  125 

"  Mademoiselle,  La  France  calls  her  sons  to 
battle.  Monsieur  drives.  He  should  hasten  the 
ladies  of  the  enemy  into  neutral  Belgium." 

Thorpe  sought  to  quiet  the  alarm  of  Elsa  and 
her  mother,  which  was  fast  mounting  towards 
panic.  What  frightful  deeds  might  not  be 
expected  of  these  excited  forest-dwelling  savages 
who  crowded  so  close  around  the  car? 

Lucy  reproached  her  chauffeur :  '  *  Why,  Henri, 
you  can't  mean  you  intend  to  desert  me  in  the 
pinch?" 

"  But  am  I  not  called  to  the  colors,  made- 
moiselle? Pardon,  and  bon  voyage  to  you  and 
your  guests.  I  go  quickly  across  the  hill  to  the 
train  that  will  be  in  readiness  to  take  those  who 
are  mobilized.  La  Patrie  shall  be  defended!  " 

"  Wait,"  said  Lucy,  and  she  held  out  her 
purse.  ''Here  is  what's  owing  to  you  —  and 
something  over." 

With  innate  gentility  Henri  thrust  the  purse 
into  his  pocket  without  opening  it,  bowed  to  each 
lady  in  turn,  and  flung  an  eloquent  appeal  to 
the  noisy  crowd.  The  peasants  hushed  their 
clamor,  bared  their  heads,  and  bowed  rustically 
to  Frau  von  Kissel  and  her  fair  daughter,  with 
friendly  murmurs  of,  "  Bon  voyage,  madame! 
Bon  voyage,  la  belle  Allemande/  " 

Henry  swung  out  and  stood  at  attention  while 
Thorpe  took  his  place  beside  the  elderly  Mar- 
celle.  Under  the  control  of  its  new  driver,  the 
big  car  slowly  rolled  clear,  out  of  the  midst  of 
the  courteous  "  savages."  By  the  time  it  was 
passing  the  last  quaint  little  red-tiled  cottage, 
Thorpe  had  selected  his  route  on  the  road  map. 


• 

126  The  Blond  Beast 

The  distance  to  the  Belgian  frontier  on  the  east 
was  somewhat  the  nearer;  but  with  the  war 
deluge  bursting  the  floodgates,  the  name  of  Sedan 
was  ominous.  Thorpe  headed  north,  on  the  west 
side  of  the  Meuse,  for  the  deep  indentation  of 
Belgian  territory  that  curves  southward  from 
between  Namur  and  Mons. 

Though  the  car  whirled  honking  through  the 
country  hamlets  without  the  slightest  attempt 
being  made  to  check  its  flight,  the  village  on  the 
frontier  was  not  reached  until  close  upon  mid- 
night. Here,  between  inexperience  with  war  con- 
ditions and  his  anxiety  for  the  safety  of  his 
charges,  Thorpe  fell  into  a  serious  blunder.  At 
so  remote  and  quiet  a  village  the  party  might 
have  been  permitted  to  cross  over  the  neutral 
frontier  into  Belgium  without  trouble,  despite 
the  German  passports  of  Elsa  and  her  mother. 
The  regular  course  would  have  been  for  the  party 
to  have  gone  to  the  inn  for  the  night  and  pre- 
sented themselves  to  the  customs  inspector  at  a 
comfortable  hour  in  the  morning. 

Thorpe,  however,  figured  that  all  the  border 
guards  had  been  hurried  away  to  defend  the 
German  frontier  south  of  the  Duchy  of  Luxem- 
bourg. He  whirled  into  the  village  at  high 
speed,  determined  to  "  buck  the  line  "  and  shoot 
over  into  Belgium  before  the  sleepy  French  offi- 
cials could  question  his  passage.  The  map 
showed  no  stream  to  be  crossed  or  fortifications 
to  be  passed  at  this  point. 

All  the  village  appeared  sunk  in  the  placid 
stillness  of  midnight  slumber.  The  great  pur- 
ring car  shot  swiftly  down  the  center  of  the  wide 


Qui  Vive?  127 

main  street.  A  minute  or  two  more,  and  the 
party  would  be  over  the  line  on  Belgium  soil  — 

Out  of  the  dark  shadow  of  a  house  front 
shrilled  a  sharply  challenging  "  Qui  vive?  " 

Thorpe  whirled  on  past  the  sentry.  An  instant 
later  the  sharp  report  of  a  military  rifle  shattered 
the  silence  of  the  night.  Thorpe  flung  his  weight 
on  the  accelerator.  But  even  as  the  car  leaped 
into  racing  speed,  the  road  ahead  glared  with  the 
lurid  dazzle  of  a  red  flare.  Thorpe  threw  on 
the  brakes  and  managed  to  stop  the  car  within 
half  a  length  of  the  heavy  timber  barricade  that 
barred  the  road. 

From  beyond  the  obstruction  six  or  eight  red- 
legged  blue-coated  French  soldiers  came  running. 
They  charged  the  car  with  bayonets  held  ready 
to  lunge.  Elsa's  terrified  shriek  sent  the  deadly 
points  to  an  up-tilt  as  the  wielders  perceived 
that  the  occupants  of  the  tonneau  were  all  women. 
No  less  suddenly,  every  weapon  was  swung 
around  to  menace  Thorpe.  He  folded  his  arms 
and  stared  at  the  angry  soldiers  with  a  frown 
of  well-feigned  surprise  and  indignation. 

"  Here  you!  Put  down  those  guns.  They 
might  hurt  somebody,"  he  reproved.  "  What 
d'you  mean  by  this?  " 

A  corpulent  gray-mustached  little  captain  of 
Territorials  appeared  from  behind  the  car,  bowed 
profoundly  to  the  ladies,  and  fixed  Thorpe  with  a 
suspicious  eye. 

"  Monsieur  have  ze  frontier  attempt  to  steal," 
he  accused. 

1 1  The  frontier !  ' '  exclaimed  Thorpe  with  simu- 
lated surprise.  "  Why,  how  is  that?  I  know  we 


128  The  Blond  Beast 

are  still  west  of  the  Meuse,  and  this  can't  be 
Givet." 

"  Ah!  ah!  But  ze  qui  vive?  You  do  not  stop. 
Explain,  s'il  vous  plait." 

Lucy  leaned  out  to  smile  at  the  interrogator 
in  her  most  graciously  condescending  manner. 

"  My  dear  Captain,  how  happy  I  am  that  we 
have  found  an  officer  and  gentleman  of  France  to 
advise  us.  Like  myself,  Mr.  Thorpe  is  an  Amer- 
ican. We  of  course  sent  our  chauffeur  hurrying 
to  mobilize,  the  instant  we  learned  about  the  call 
for  the  army.  Since  then  Mr.  Thorpe  has  been 
driving  as  best  he  could  with  the  road  map  for 
guide.'* 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  tres  bien.  Chauffeur  ver' 
excellen'  who  drive  rapid  in  ze  night.  But 
Americaine  —  oui,  ouL  Ze  totaile  partee  Ameri- 
caine,  n'est-ce  pas?  ' 

"No,  only  Miss  Carew  and  myself,"  put  in 
Thorpe,  as  he  saw  the  captain's  shrewd  old  eye 
glance  in  past  Lucy  to  her  shrinking  companions. 

The  officer  spoke  to  his  men,  bowed  gallantly 
to  the  ladies,  and  with  a  polite  request  for  per- 
mission, stepped  up  into  the  tonneau. 

"  Be  so  kind  as  to  reverse,"  he  directed 
Thorpe.  "  Ze  pleasure  I  have  to  escort  to  ze 
Hotel  de  vitte." 


WAE  AND  RUMORS  OF  WAR 

No  captor  could  have  been  more  courteous 
and  affable  than  the  corpulent  little  captain.  He 
ordered  vin  et  pain  for  the  party  served  in  his 
office,  and  politely  begged  leave  to  inspect  their 
passports.  There  was  no  insulting  denunciations 
or  violent  actions  when  he  saw  the  German  forms 
and  writing  and  seals  that  disclosed  the  nation- 
ality of  Elsa  and  her  mother.  On  the  contrary, 
his  manner  toward  both  became  even  more  gal- 
lant and  polite. 

' '  The  little  fearsome  ape !  '  '  Frau  von  Kissel 
muttered  her  relief  and  contempt.  "  He  dares 
not  to  harm  us.  Der  Tag  has  come,  and  he 
knows  that  his  land  shall  soon  be  subject  to  our 
high  race." 

At  the  first  word  the  little  captain  cocked  his 
ear.  But  if  he  understood  the  indiscreet  remark, 
he  gave  no  sign  of  the  fact.  Afterwards,  when 
he  escorted  the  party  to  the  inn,  Thorpe  noticed 
that  a  pair  of  soldiers  followed.  They  were 
placed  on  guard  at  the  front  and  rear  doors. 

In  the  morning  the  captain  was  more  affable 
than  ever  and  full  of  apologies  for  the  necessity 
of  cross-examining  the  party.  Each  was  ques- 
tioned alone  yet  with  such  politeness  that  even 

129 


130  The  Blond  Beast 

Elsa  forgot  her  timidity.  Her  mother  was  con- 
firmed in  the  belief  that  the  little  man  feared  to 
be  stern.  The  touch  of  the  steel  under  the  velvet 
was  not  felt  until,  at  luncheon,  the  captain  gave 
his  decision. 

There  was  no  reason  why  the  maid  and  the 
Americans  should  not  be  permitted  to  cross  into 
Belgium.  But  as  for  les  Allemandes,  alas !  —  was 
not  their  country  at  war  with  La  France?  Al- 
ready an  enemy  patrol  had  set  foot  on  the  sacred 
soil  of  la  patrie,  and  although  the  invaders  had 
been  destroyed  to  a  man,  the  war  was  on.  A 
thousand  pardons,  but  distinguished  madame  and 
most  charming  angelic  mademoiselle  must  be 
pleased  to  content  themselves  with  official  hos- 
pitality until  orders  regarding  their  disposal 
should  be  received  from  headquarters. 

When  the  meaning  of  this  forced  itself  upon 
the  comprehension  of  the  over-confident  Frau  von 
Kissel,  she  burst  into  a  storm  of  vituperation  that 
amazed  Thorpe  no  less  than  Lucy.  Though  the 
Americans  knew  the  German  high-born  lady  to 
be  somewhat  prejudiced,  she  had  always  before 
appeared  well  bred  and,  as  a  rule,  kindly.  They 
now  were  forced  to  realize  for  the  first  time  the 
profound  depth  and  bitterness  of  racial  hatred 
as  fostered  and  cherished  by  the  spirit  of 
Prussianism. 

Lucy  turned  to  the  suave  little  officer.  "  My 
dear  Captain,  you  see  that  my  friends  are  fright- 
ened out  of  their  wits  over  what's  to  become  of 
them." 

"  Alas,  mademoiselle,  my  ver',  ver'  profoun* 
regret.  Have  I  not  endeavor  pleasance?  " 


War  and  Rumors  of  War          131 

"  Indeed,  yes.  You  will  continue  no  less  kind, 
I  am  sure,  while  I  take  your  messenger  back  to 
Paris  and  get  the  order  to  release  my  friends." 

"  Tres  bien,  mademoiselle." 

"You  —  you'd  go,  Lucee — "  gasped  Elsa, 
clutching  Thorpe's  shoulder.  "  But  I  cannot  let 
Allan  leave  me !  To  be  left  here  without  him  —  I 
shall  die!  " 

The  ironic  glance  that  Lucy  shot  at  Thorpe 
melted  to  half-amused,  half-pitying  tenderness 
as  it  rested  upon  the  golden  head  of  the  terrified 
girl. 

"  Never  fear,  honey.  I'll  not  take  him  from 
you.  I  qualified  as  my  own  chauffeur  years  ago. 
Allan  shall  stay  here  with  you  and  your  mother, 
while  I  go  back  to  straighten  out  this  tangle." 

"  Nein,  nein,  fraulein!  "  protested  Frau  von 
Kissel.  "  For  you  to  go  alone  —  that  I  cannot 
permit. ' ' 

11  I  shall  have  Marcelle  with  me,  and  for  pro- 
tector the  honest  soldier  whom  our  friend  the 
captain  will  select  as  his  messenger.  Please  say 
no  more.  I  ran  you  into  this  mess.  It's  for  me 
to  get  you  out." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Loo,"  said  Thorpe, 
his  eyes  clouded  with  concern.  "  Anyway,  Tante 
is  right.  We  had  better  try  telegraphing.  I 
don't  like  the  idea  of  your  going  back  into  France. 
At  least  wait  a  day  or  two —  " 

"  Not  a  minute,"  broke  in  Lucy,  and  she 
directed  Marcelle  to  fetch  her  traveling  bags 
from  the  inn. 

Thorpe's  anxiety  was  eased  when  the  mature, 
steady-eyed  Territorial  selected  as  messenger 


132  The  Blond  Beast 

by  the  captain  proved  to  be  a  professional  courier 
of  known  repute.  He  could  be  relied  upon  to 
safeguard  Lucy  against  all  annoyances  and  dan- 
gers, and  he  could  advise  her  how  to  get  in  touch 
with  officials. 

At  the  start,  haste  may  have  caused  the  girl 
to  draw  away  the  hand  to  which  Thorpe  was 
clinging  in  reluctant  farewell.  The  courier  en- 
tered the  tonneau  with  Marcelle,  as  requested  by 
Lucy,  who  kissed  Elsa  and  her  mother,  took 
gracious  leave  of  the  little  captain,  and  calmly 
swung  up  into  the  driver's  seat.  The  car  slanted 
clear  of  the  gutter,  gliding  smoothly  from  low 
into  high.  It  left  the  village  at  something  over 
forty  miles  an  hour. 

"  Mon  Dieu!  "   exclaimed   the   little   captain. 

"But  la  belle  Amencaine  —  she  ees  une  gra/nde 
generate!  ' 

Thorpe  set  his  teeth.  He  felt  done  —  set  down. 
Here  he  was  left  to  cool  his  heels  in  innocuous 
desuetude  while  Lucy  played  the  man's  part. 
That  was  just  the  trouble  with  her.  She  was  so 
determined  never  to  be  the  clinging  vine. 

Thanks  be,  no  girl  was  so  absolutely  her  oppo- 
site in  this  respect  as  Elsa. .  .He  would  at  least 
have  the  privilege  of  protecting  his  golden-haired 
darling  —  of  quieting  her  maidenly  fears  and 
enjoying  her  naive  love. 

Yet  during  the  days  of  anxious  waiting  that 
followed,  even  this  blissful  duty  far  from  satis- 
fied him.  With  startling  rapidity,  strange  and 
shocking  events  began  to  shatter  in  quick  suc- 
cession the  peace  and  serenity  of  all  Europe.  His 
concern  over  what  might  befall  Elsa  and  her 


War  and  Rumors  of  War  133 

mother  as  well  as  Lucy  deepened  from  appre- 
hension to  dread  —  a  dread  that,  for  the  sake 
of  his  companions,  he  was  required  to  keep 
masked  behind  a  reassuring  smile. 

The  favorable  impression  left  by  Lucy  and  the 
fact  that  Thorpe  was  an  American  led  the  little 
captain  to  favor  his  "  guests  "  with  stray  bits 
of  disjointed  news  that  came  to  the  village.  For 
the  first  three  or  four  days  all  lines  of  communi- 
cation were  closed.  Then  came  a  jumbled  batch 
of  reports  and  rumors  — 

Violation  of  the  neutrality  of  Luxembourg  by 
Germany  confirmed;  demand  by  Germany  for 
free  passage  across  Belgium;  the  defiant  refusal 
of  the  brave  little  people;  violation  of  the  neu- 
trality of  their  country  by  invading  armies  of 
Germans;  the  resultant  declaration  of  war  by 
England;  Liege  besieged  and  Briey  in  France 
captured  by  the  Germans. 

All  Europe  was  aflame.  Unbelievable,  bloody, 
merciless  war  had  burst  upon  an  astounded  world 
that  as  yet  was  too  bewildered  to  comprehend 
the  catastrophe.  The  volcano  of  militarism  had 
erupted.  Twelve  million  soldiers  were  rushing 
to  take  up  arms,  or  were  already  flooding  over 
frontiers  —  frightful  lava  waves  of  enmity  and 
hatred,  fierce  to  burn  and  destroy. 

Until  official  confirmation  of  the  German  viola- 
tion of  Belgium's  neutrality  was  received,  the 
French  captain  prevented  his  small  force  from 
taking  a  single  step  over  the  boundary  line  to 
fraternize  with  the  friendly  Belgian  guards.  Even 
after  the  German  armies  had  violated  Belgium 
the  French  officer  held  scrupulously  to  his  orders 


134  The  Blond  Beast 

not  to  cross  the  border.  Yet  this  was  of  small 
comfort  to  Thorpe.  He  knew  that  the  French 
army  might  now  be  expected  to  sweep  north  over 
the  line,  to  meet  and  check  the  invaders  in  the 
Cockpit  of  Europe. 

Elsa  and  her  mother  trembled  at  the  thought 
of  being  overtaken  by  the  horde  of  "base  degen- 
erates." They  prayed  for  the  speedy  return  of 
Lucy.  They  besought  Thorpe  to  bribe  the  French 
soldiers,  or  find  other  means  of  escape  over  the 
frontier. 

Soon  came  horrible  rumors  that  put  an  end 
to  even  Frau  von  Kissel's  insistent  urgings. 
From  the  north  reports  spread  of  dreadful  out- 
rages being  committed  upon  the  Belgian  civil 
population  by  the  German  soldiers.  Frau  von 
Kissel  at  once  denounced  these  tales  as  Belgian 
lies,  and  Thorpe  quite  agreed  with  her.  The  very 
hideousness  of  the  alleged  atrocities  made  them 
incredible  to  him.  Scores  of  peaceful  townsfolk 
and  peasants  shot  down  in  cold  blood  without 
provocation;  houses  burned,  often  with  their  oc- 
cupants ;  women  raped  and  murdered ;  even  little 
children  mutilated,  if  not  bayoneted  —  Pah!  It 
was  all  unbelievable.  Such  savagery  might  have 
been  possible  in  the  Balkans.  But  in  Western 
Europe  —  above  all,  to  be  attributed  to  the  highly 
disciplined  troops  of  kultured  Germany  —  sheer 
nonsense! 

Rumors  and  fragments  of  real  news  flew  thick 
and  fast  —  exaggerated  accounts  of  the  first 
British  landing  in  France;  the  slaughter  of  Ger- 
mans in  their  first  rush  on  Liege;  their  return 
and  destruction  of  the  famous  Liege  forts  with 


War  and  Rumors  of  War          135 

monstrous  howitzers;  the  French  attack  and  re- 
pulse from  Alsace;  Italy's  declaration  of  neutral- 
ity; the  acknowledgment  of  the  German  chan- 
cellor that  the  invasion  of  Belgium  was  against 
international  law  and  would  be  recompensed; 
and,  along  with  this  last,  new  and  more  hideous 
tales  of  atrocities. 

Then  came  the  flood  that  Elsa  and  her  mother 
had  so  dreaded.  Up  out  of  the  south  swirled 
a  rush  of  French  cavalry,  light  artillery,  infantry. 
At  first  only  a  few  squads  were  routed  through 
this  little  frontier  village  off  the  main  routes 
of  travel.  The  bulk  of  the  French  vanguard  had 
passed  northwards  on  either  side  before  the 
eventful  morning  when  a  regiment  of  the  Line 
appeared  on  the  road  from  the  south. 

Opposite  the  first  cottages  the  regimental  band 
swelled  out  into  the  grand  notes  of  the  Marseil- 
laise. The  response  was  a  crashing  roar  of  sol- 
diers' voices  that  rose  above,  dominated,  and 
drowned  out  the  blare  of  the  instruments.  Before 
the  appalling  burst  of  sound  Frau  von  Kissel  fled 
with  Elsa  to  hide  under  the  ancient  bed  of  their 
tiny  inn  chamber,  and  Thorpe  drew  back  from 
the  window  out  of  which  they  had  been  peering. 

This  was  not  the  melodious,  piquant  Gallic 
national  air  of  his  indifferent  memory.  It  was 
the  harsh,  defiant,  menacing  battle-shout  of 
war-eager  soldiers  marching  to  hurl  themselves 
upon  the  enemy.  The  measured  thud  of  their 
down-stamping  feet  was  like  the  beating  of 
a  titanic  deadened  drum.  Their  shouts  were  not 
singing,  not  music,  but  the  fierce,  almost  fero- 
cious cries  of  war-fired  men  who  were  prepared 


136  The  Blond  Beast 

to  die  for  the  sake  of  vengeance  and  liberty. 

The  rhythmic  din  roared  nearer,  thundered 
past  the  inn,  and  rolled  on  across  the  Belgian 
border.  Thorpe  found  himself  standing  with 
hands  clenched  and  muscles  aquiver.  His  feel- 
ing was  not  fear ;  only  awe  and  wonderment.  He 
was  as  one  who  at  the  same  moment  has  come  in 
contact  with  fire  and  ice.  A  breath  from  the 
yawning  steel-fanged  maw  of  the  god  of  war 
had  swept  over  him  and  left  him  gasping. 

He  sprang  forward  to  the  window  and  leaned 
out  to  peer  after  that  red-legged  blue  column  of 
death,  that  was  driving  northwards  to  crash 
into  the  van  of  the  German  invaders.  When  at 
last  it  vanished  in  the  dusty  distance  of  the  swel- 
tering August  forenoon,  he  brought  his  gaze  to  a 
shorter  focus.  The  timber  barricade  had  been 
hurled  aside  into  the  gutter.  There  were  no 
sentries  up  the  road.  The  guard  before  the 
door  also  had  disappeared. 

Thorpe  sauntered  through  the  inn  and  out 
around  the  little  garden.  Still  no  sign  of  any 
guard.  In  the  front  doorway  he  found  the  inn- 
keeper and  his  wife  gazing  northwards  up  the 
road,  their  faded  old  eyes  still  aglow.  His  cas- 
ually spoken  request  to  see  the  captain  was  met 
by  an  upflinging  of  hands. 

"  Oo-oo-la-la!  But  did  not  monsieur  know  that 
le  capitaine  had  marched  off  with  the  gallant 
regiment  —  marched  off  straight  for  Berlin?  " 

"  The  guards?  " 

"  All  gone,  all  gone.  Pouf!  —  no  more  billet 
pay.  But  the  kind  patronage  of  monsieur  and 
madame  and  mademoiselle —  " 


War  and  Rumors  of  War  137 

Thorpe  silenced  the  old  man  with  a  curt  ges- 
ture. This  was  no  time  for  chatter.  By  a  fleck 
in  the  chances  of  war,  the  little  captain  and  all 
his  men  had  been  caught  up  and  swept  away, 
leaving  the  captives  unguarded.  In  the  haste  of 
their  departure  some  order  may  have  been  mis- 
understood or  overlooked,  or  the  emergency  may 
have  rendered  the  escape  of  the  prisoners  a  mat- 
ter of  relative  unimportance. 

A  second  seemingly  careless  inquiry  from 
Thorpe  made  certain  the  fact  that  no  one  in  the 
village  had  received  command  to  detain  the  un- 
willing visitors.  He  proceeded  to  bargain  with 
the  old  couple  to  such  good  purpose  that  within 
the  hour  he  drove  across  the  deserted  boundary 
into  Belgium  behind  a  span  of  young  oxen. 

Back  of  his  seat,  under  the  low  cover  of  the 
peasant's  cart,  Elsa  and  Frau  von  Kissel 
crouched  upon  a  truss  of  straw  that  eased  the 
jolting  of  the  springless  body.  Never  in  her  life 
had  the  high-born  frau  dreamed  of  humbling  her- 
self to  so  plebian  a  conveyance,  yet  now  she  was 
only  too  relieved  to  be  moving  in  any  manner. 
She  would  gladly  have  walked,  sooner  than  stay 
on  French  soil. 

The  utmost  efforts  of  Thorpe  to  secure  horses 
had  failed.  All  had  been  requisitioned  and  driven 
away  by  the  French  soldiers.  The  oxen  were 
Hobson's  choice.  Thorpe  tried  to  be  thankful  he 
had  been  given  even  that  choice,  but  the  responsi- 
bility of  his  position  rendered  him  far  too 
uneasy. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
EDGE  OF  THE  TEMPEST 

Thorpe's  first  plan  was  to 'work  eastward. 
Study  of  the  road  map  caused  him  to  reconsider. 
To  cross  the  spur  of  French  territory  that  thrust 
down  the  Meuse  to  Givet,  they  would  have  to 
twice  pass  the  French  boundary,  in  and  out,  and 
would  then  find  themselves  with  forty  miles  of 
Belgium  still  between  them  and  the  Grand  Duchy 
of  Luxembourg.  He  decided  to  hold  to  a  more 
northerly  course,  until  they  could  swerve  across 
the  Meuse  in  Belgian  territory,  between  Givet  and 
Dinant. 

Ten  miles  or  so  of  trundling  along  in  the 
clumsy  cart  behind  the  slow-plodding  oxen, 
brought  them  to  a  main  road  in  the  beautiful 
country  near  Couvin.  At  a  wayside  shrine  of 
"  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows  "  that  was  a-flutter  with 
white  paper  pendants,  an  old  Belgian  peasant 
woman  was  kneeling  in  prayer  beside  her  worn 
wooden  shoes.  Inquiry  proved  that  she  knew 
nothing  of  the  district  beyond  Couvin.  Like  most 
peasants,  she  had  never  been  a  day's  walk  away 
from  the  home  farm.  Thorpe  tossed  her  a  coin, 
took  a  few  of  the  unripe  pears  that  she  offered 
out  of  her  basket,  and  drove  on  along  the  lesser 
road. 

The  fugitives  had  gone  hardly  a  mile  when 

138 


Edge  of  the  Tempest  139 

behind  them,  around  the  last  tree-screened  bend 
in  the  road,  swept  a  car  whose  red-gold  body 
shone  like  burnished  copper.  Elsa's  timidity 
had  kept  her  watchful  of  the  road  rearwards. 
She  was  first  to  see  the  coming  car.  At  her  cry 
Thorpe  halted  the  oxen  and  stared  around. 

The  car  was  already  close.  It  sagged  to  an 
easy  stop  alongside  the  cart.  In  the  tonneau 
sat  Marcelle  and  the  courier.  From  the  driver 's 
seat  Lucy  looked  across  at  Thorpe,  the  extreme 
lustre  of  her  eyes  contradicting  the  ironic  amuse- 
ment of  her  smile. 

"  Hello,  Lan,"  she  greeted.  "  What's  your 
hurry?  " 

"  Got  tired  of  waiting  for  you.  The  captain 
moved  on,  and  we  decided  to  follow  suit." 

"  You  don't  call  this  moving,  do  you?  "  she 
bantered.  "  Only  thing  it  could  beat  is  the 
snail  trot  of  the  red  tape-ists.  I  thought  I'd 
never  —  ' ' 

* '  But  you  are  here,  Loo  —  thank  God !  ' '  cried 
Thorpe  with  a  fervor  that  brought  a  sudden 
flood  of  color  into  the  girl's  cheeks. 

She.  bit  her  lip,  and  by  a  sharp  gesture  towards 
the  cart,  checked  his  rush  to  clasp  her  hand. 

"  You're  delaying  the  game.  Help  them 
shift." 

Thorpe  swung  down  the  over-joyed  Elsa  and 
eased  the  heavy  descent  of  her  heat-flushed  but 
now  smiling  mother.  The  courier  sprang  to 
transfer  from  cart  to  car  the  bags  and  suitcases 
of  the  fugitives.  Elsa  had  darted  ahead  into  the 
tonneau,  to  reach  over  and  fling  her  arms  about 
Lucy. 


140  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Beloved,  brave  friend!  "  she  cried.  "  What 
gladness  that  you  also  have  escaped!  " 

Lucy  returned  the  young  girl's  fervent  kiss, 
gave  the  embracing  arms  a  pat,  loosened  them, 
and  crooked  a  finger  at  Thorpe.  He  took  the 
seat  beside  her.  The  courier  sprang  in  behind. 
Away  whirled  the  car,  while  behind  it  the  aban- 
doned oxen  began  slowly  to  swing  around  towards 
the  grass  at  the  edge  of  the  roadway. 

The  innkeeper  had  told  Lucy  about  the  release 
of  the  prisoners,  and  she  had  been  directed  by 
the  old  peasant  woman  at  the  cross  roads.  She 
did  not  wait  for  Thorpe  to  ask  questions. 

"  Such  a  mess,"  she  said.  "  I  thought  Pd 
never  get  back.  If  the  rest  of  the  world  is  like 
Paris,  it's  on  its  head,  spinning  like  a  groggy 
top.  The  bureau  clerks  had  me  tangled  in  a 
hopelessly  hard  knot.  Our  embassy  is  literally 
swamped  with  a  jam  of  panicky  tourists  —  our 
own  and  the  Germans  and  Austrians.  I  couldn't 
bother  the  ambassador.  I  laid  in  wait  with  my 
car,  and  at  last  had  the  luck  to  give  a  cabinet 
member  a  lift.  His  card  won  me  an  audience  with 
the  war  minister,  who  happens  to  be  an  intimate 
friend  of  Polly's  husband.  That  and  my  offer 
to  take  my  courier  guard  to  the  front  with 
dispatches  —  ' ' 

"  To  the  front!  "  exclaimed  Thorpe.  "  But 
isn't  that  unsafe?  And  have  we  the  right  as  neu- 
trals to  help  the  French?  " 

"  If  you'd  seen  how  they're  seizing  all  private 
cars . . .  I  'd  have  been  left  stranded.  The  truth 
is,  they  took  my  car  for  the  courier,  but  were 
courteous  enough  to  let  me  come  along.  I  wanted 


Edge  of  the  Tempest  141 

to  help  you  see  Elsa  and  Tante  through  the  lines. 
Lan,  we  must  take  chances.  There's  no  telling 
what  may  happen.  I  haven't  a  cent  left,  and  no 
bank  will  give  me  anything.  My  letters  of  credit 
are  waste  paper.  We  have  had  to  requisition 
food  and  gasoline  to  get  here  from  Paris." 

"  And  I  paid  out  all  my  cash  for  that  ox 
express,"  ruefully  admitted  Thorpe.  "  Great 
prospect. ' ' 

"  It  might  be  worse,"  consoled  the  girl,  slow- 
ing a  little  in  a  swoop  through  a  village.  "  Tell 
them  I  have  an  order  for  their  safe  conduct 
through  the  French  lines." 

Thorpe  hastened  to  pass  the  good  news  back 
into  the  tonneau.  Elsa  cried  out  with  delight, 
and  Frau  von  Kissel  so  far  forgot  herself  as  to 
beam  even  at  Marcelle  and  the  French  courier. 

The  car  raced  on  to  the  northeast  towards  the 
war  front.  Of  a  sudden  it  began  to  overtake 
and  pass  columns  of  infantry  and  batteries  of 
artillery.  Thorpe  suggested  his  plan  to  cut 
east  across  the  Meuse  below  Givet. 

"  No,"  said  Lucy.  "  Our  dispatches  are  for 
the  general  in  command  of  the  troops  that  should 
be  at  Dinant. ' ' 

Hardly  had  the  girl  spoken  when  a  cordon  of 
soldiers  across  the  road  forced  her  to  halt  the 
car.  The  courier  dispatch-bearer  promptly 
showed  orders  that  opened  the  way  for  the  party. 
During  the  stop  he  learned  that  the  Germans 
had  occupied  Dinant,  only  to  be  driven  back 
eastwards  by  the  French.  Though  both  forces 
were  said  to  have  been  no  more  than  reconnoiter- 
ing  parties,  each  numbered  so  many  thousands 


142  The  Blond  Beast 

that  in  previous  wars  the  skirmish  would  have 
been  called  a  hattle.  The  light  field  guns  of  the 
French  had  been  too  much  for  the  machine-guns 
of  the  Germans. 

Frau  von  Kissel  looked  contemptuously  incred- 
ulous until  the  party  passed  a  column  of  German 
prisoners  —  jagers  with  feathers  in  their  caps  — 
that  were  being  marched  southwards.  Her  jowl 
fell  at  the  disconcerting  sight,  and  her  faded  blue 
eyes  gazed  back  at  the  prisoners,  wide  with 
bewilderment.  She  was  still  in  a  daze  when  the 
car  turned  down  into  the  picturesque  valley  of 
the  Meuse,  near  Dinant,  and  was  directed  to  the 
headquarters  of  the  French  forces. 

The  commander  was  away,  up  along  the  rail- 
road on  the  west  bank.  But  the  young  staff  lieu- 
tenant in  charge  proved  to  be  even  more  affable 
than  the  little  captain  on  the  border.  There  was 
a  homelike  American  twang  in  his  introduction 
of  himself  as  a  graduate  of  the  Boston  Tech. 

"  Dee-lighted  to  meet  you,  Miss  Carew  —  you 
too,  Mr.  Thorpe  —  and  the  ladies  of  the  opposi- 
tion. .  .No  need  to  hold  you  over  for  the  Old  Man. 
These  orders  are  positive.  I'll  issue  passes  to 
Dinant  and  out  through  our  patrol  lines. .  .Only 
thing,  I'll  have  to  lift  your  joy- wagon,  Miss 
Carew.  Sorry,  but  we  need  it  in  our  business. 
Out  east  you  may  pick  up  an  ox  cart.  It's  only 
about  twenty-five  miles  to  where  the  —  er  — 
Dutchmen  are  entrenched  on  the  Ourthe." 

Lucy  peaked  her  dark  eyebrows  at  her  friends, 
shrugged,  and  submitted  to  the  inevitable. 

"  It's  too  bad,  Lan.  I  had  planned  to  walk 
back  to  Dinant,  and  let  you  motor  them  on 


Edge  of  the  Tempest  143 

through  the  German  lines.  Now  it's  impossible." 
"  You  were?     But  there'll  be  no  need.     We 
must  keep  together,"  urged  Thorpe.     "  You're 
coming  on  with  us." 

"  Ja,  dear  Lucee,"  murmured  Elsa.  "  We  can- 
not with  you  part." 

"I'm  afraid  your  police  would  think  the  same, 
honey.  Anyway,  my  mind  has  been  made  up  all 
along.  I  shan't  venture  into  Germany,  unless  it's 
behind  the  French  army." 

The  lieutenant  bowed  his  appreciation  of  the 
double  compliment.  Frau  von  Kissel  exclaimed 
in  shocked  protest  at  the  bare  suggestion: 

"  Impossible,  fraulein!  No  invader  shall  ever 
set  foot  on  the  holy  soil  of  the  Fatherland." 

"  Then  I'll  beg  to  be  excused  until  herr  count 
retires  from  active  service,"  said  Lucy.  "  My 
idea  was  to  run  home  out  of  this  silly  war  mess. 
But  to  part  with  my  car  —  ' ' 

She  smiled  at  the  handsome  young  Frenchman. 

"  Consider  the  circumstances,  Lieutenant.  My 
beloved  chugger  never  would  be  the  same  again 
without  me  to  match  its  symphony  of  hues.  If  it 
is  commandeered,  I  go  along  as  chauffeur." 

' '  But  —  but,  mademoiselle !  —  " 

"  Ataboy,"  put  in  Thorpe.  "  If  she  won't 
come  with  us,  ship  her  straight  to  Calais.  This 
is  no  place  for  stray  girls." 

Lucy  smiled. 

"  Pay  no  attention  to  him,  Lieutenant.  He's 
engaged.  I'm  not  —  but  I  mean  to  be.  I've 
learned  that  neutrals  can  help  in  Eed  Cross  work. 
My  ultimatum  is:  Car  and  girl,  one  and  insep- 
arable, for  hospital  service  —  Marcelle  thrown 


144  The  Blond  Beast 

in  to  boot.  United  we  run,  divided  we  fall  by  the 
wayside. ' ' 

The  black  eyes  of  the  lieutenant  flashed  admir- 
ing approval. 

"  Tres  Men!  Ultimatum  accepted  P.  D.  Q., 
subject  to  endorsement  by  the  Old  Man.  We're 
short  on  ambulances . . .  There  are  no  Fritzies  in 
Dinant  to-day.  You  might  chase  your  friends 
across  before  reporting  at  the  field  hospital  for 
your  insignia.  Here  is  an  order  to  the  head 
surgeon. ' ' 

There  followed  gracious  bows  and  smiles  from 
all  except  Frau  von  Kissel.  The  car  shot  away 
and  soon  was  rolling  across  the  Meuse  bridge. 
It  turned  along  the  river-front  street  where  the 
picturesque  little  Belgian  town  lay  huddled  be- 
tween the  river  and  the  limestone  cliffs  on  which 
towered  an  undefended,  obsolete  old  fortress. 
Here  and  there  the  buildings  were  scarred  with 
shrapnel  and  bullet  marks  that  told  of  the  recent 
clash  between  the  French  and  Germans. 

Lucy  stopped  at  the  hotel  St.  Jacques,  where  a 
street  sloped  up  at  right  angles  to  the  river  and 
connected  with  an  eastward  road. 

"  This  is  about  as  far  as  I  should  go,  I  guess," 
she  said.  "  Wouldn't  the  hotel  be  a  good  place 
for  you  to  stop  over-night,  Lan?  You  might  be 
able  to  get  some  kind  of  rig  for  to-morrow." 

"  Right-o,"  agreed  Thorpe. 

While  he  handed  down  Elsa  and  Frau  von 
Kissel,  Lucy  pointed  out  their  luggage  to  a  pair 
of  very  ready  porters.  She  came  around  to  clasp 
the  hand  of  her  departing  chaperon. 

11  Grood-by,   Tante.     Pm   so   sorry  you   can't 


Edge  of  the  Tempest  145 

have  the  car,  as  I  planned.  But  from  what  they 
say,  you  can  reach  the  German  army  in  a  day, 
even  behind  oxen.  After  that,  of  course,  you'll 
be  in  clover.  Kurt,  I  suppose,  is  in  Alsace  or 
way  off  on  the  Russian  front.  When  you  write, 
be  sure  to  give  him  my  kindest  regards." 

"  Ach,  no  more  than  regards,  Loocee?  " 
sighed  the  fond  mother. 

The  girl  smiled  past  Elsa  at  the  troubled  face 
of  Thorpe. 

"  But  I'm  to  be  on  the  other  side,"  she  ban- 
tered. "  We'll  wait  and  see  if  the  beatitudes 
work  in  war  time." 

Thorpe  caught  her  hands  as  she  drew  away 
from  the  fervid  embrace  of  the  tearful-eyed  Elsa. 

"  Don't  be  a  chump,  Loo,"  he  urged.  *•'  I'll 
have  a  complication  of  insomnia  and  indigestion 
if  you  don't  promise  to  hit  the  high  places  for 
Calais.  This  frontier  is  going  to  be  a  good  local- 
ity to  be  away  from,  if  the  Germans  come  on. 
I  know  enough  about  their  war-machine  to  feel 
sure  they'll  literally  steam-roller  the  French." 

Lucy  smiled.  "  All  the  more  need,  then,  for 
Bed  Cross  workers." 

"  Don't  joke,"  muttered  Thorpe,  wincing. 
"  You  might  get  caught  in  a  fight,  or  a  shell 
might  —  Can't  you  realize?  These  modern  guns 
shoot  for  miles." 

Lucy's  smile  took  on  a  bantering  twist. 

"  Remember  how,  in  a  thunderstorm,  we  used 
to  make  sure  we  weren't  struck?  —  counted  three 
after  each  big  lightning  flash.  I'll  do  that  if  any 
shells  go  off  near  me.  Actually,  I'm  just  dying 
to  see  what  a  real  battle  is  like,  after  all  those 


146  The  Blond  Beast 

queer  movie  things. .  .Well,  I  must  get  back  and 
find  out  my  future  duties." 

11  They'll  never  allow  a  girl  to  stay  near  the 
front.  It's  against  all  military  rules.  Thanks 
be,  they'll  send  you  packing  1  " 

"  Quien  sabe?  Good-bye  —  and,  say,  Lan —  " 
the  girl 's  voice  lost  its  ironic  note  — ' '  keep  away 
from  the  fighting.  You  have  Elsa,  and  with  Kurt 
gone  from  home,  she  and  Tante  will  need  you 
in  Berlin." 

"  I'll  steer  clear  of  the  mess  if  you  will,"  bar- 
gained Thorpe. 

Her  gauntleted  hands  drew  free  from  his  reluc- 
tant clasp. 

"  Wait,  fraulein  —  wait,"  whispered  Frau  von 
Kissel.  She  cast  a  glance  over  her  shoulder  at 
the  group  of  Belgians  in  front  of  the  hotel  cafe, 
and  bent  closer.  "  We  go  to  our  glorious  army. 
You  have  come  from  Paris.  Maybe  you  have 
information  about  the  French  mobilization  — 
information  that  shall  help  the  crushing  of  the 
chatter-apes,  nicht?  " 

"  Oh,  but  don't  you  see,  I'm  an  American  —  a 
neutral?  "  explained  Lucy.  "I'm  not  supposed 
to  tell  things  that  might  help  either  side." 

Frau  von  Kissel  flushed.  "  What  I  Not  even 
for  the  Fatherland  against  these  low  races?  I 
had  thought  you  more  noble-minded.  Besides,  is 
it  not  Kurt  loves  you?  Come,  now,  liebe  fraulein. 
Nobody  will  tell  you  told." 

"  You  heard  me  say  I'm  a  neutral,"  said 
Lucy.  As  if  to  offset  the  sharpness  of  this,  she 
turned  to  kiss  Elsa  with  quivering  tenderness. 
"  Lan  loves  you,  honey.  Be  good  to  him!  "  she 


Edge  of  the  Tempest  147 

t 
whispered  as  she  embraced  the  tearful-eyed  girl. 

With  a  wave  to  the  others  and  a  quick,  exultant 
laugh,  she  popped  into  the  car.  It  swirled  around 
under  her  skilled  guidance  and  shot  off  up  the 
street. 

The  Belgian  hotel-keeper  reassured  his  three 
new  guests  with  the  positive  assertion  that  they 
could  safely  remain  in  Dinant  for  days  if  they 
wished.  True,  the  long  delayed  advance  of  the 
German  army  from  the  Ourthe  had  begun.  But 
there  would  be  no  fighting  in  Dinant  The 
French  had  withdrawn  to  the  west  bank  of 
the  Meuse,  and  not  one  of  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  town  so  much  as  dreamed  of  resisting  the 
invaders.  They  knew  too  well  the  dreadful  fate 
that  had  befallen  the  alleged  franc-tireurs  at 
Liege  and  other  places  in  the  north.  Not  the 
slightest  excuse  should  the  Germans  have  for 
suspecting  Dinant  of  resistance.  Notices  had 
been  posted  and  every  weapon  in  town  collected, 
ready  to  be  delivered  over  to  the  invaders. 

11  That  settles  it,  Tante,"  said  Thorpe.  "  You 
and  Elsa  shall  have  a  comfortable  night.  If  I 
can't  scare  up  some  kind  of  a  conveyance  this 
evening,  to-morrow  morning  we'll  hike  out  east- 
wards, afoot,  till  we  can  find  another  cart." 

To  this  Frau  von  Kissel  readily  agreed.  As 
Thorpe  was  out  of  funds,  he  presented  her  letter 
of  credit  to  the  hotel  keeper,  with  the  explanation 
that  her  son  was  a  Prussian  officer  of  high  con- 
nections. The  eagerness  with  which  the  Belgian 
offered  to  pay  gold  for  the  full  face  of  the 
draft  betrayed  the  dread  that  lay  behind  his 
obsequiousness. 


148  The  Blond  Beast 

But  even  the  gold  and  the  aid  of  an  eager  inter- 
preter failed  to  locate  any  means  of  transporta- 
tion in  Dinant,  All  conveyances  and  horses  had 
been  swept  away  by  the  contending  French  and 
Germans.  Thorpe  had  to  return  to  the  hotel  with 
no  better  news  than  the  information  that  the 
bridge  had  been  mined  by  the  French.  At  his 
advice,  Elsa  and  her  mother  retired  early,  to  be 
rested  for  the  next  day's  tramp  eastwards. 

A  few  minutes  later,  at  a  quarter  past  nine, 
Thorpe  also  turned  in  for  the  night.  Hardly,  it 
seemed,  had  he  fallen  asleep  when  he  was  roused 
by  a  clattering  roar  somewhat  like  the  racket  of 
a  racing  motorcycle.  In  the  midst  came  explo- 
sions that  shook  the  hotel.  He  jerked  on  his 
clothes  and  peered  out  into  the  hotel  corridor. 

Cries  of  terror  and  a  smell  of  powder  fumes 
sent  him  darting  to  the  door  of  his  companions' 
room.  Elsa  was  shrieking.  When  at  last  he  was 
able  to  make  himself  heard,  Frau  von  Kissel 
opened  the  door.  In  the  alarm  of  the  moment, 
neither  she  nor  Thorpe  nor  Elsa  had  thought  for 
their  deshabille.  The  terror-stricken  girl  cast 
herself  into  her  lover's  arms  and  clung  to  him, 
shuddering.  But  the  instant  he  perceived  that 
neither  she  nor  her  mother  had  been  injured  he 
put  her  from  him. 

"  Dress  yourselves,"  he  commanded.  "  There's 
no  shooting  on  this  side  of  the  hotel.  All  is  in 
front.  I'll  see  what's  happening." 

"  Nein,  nein!  "  shrieked  Elsa. 

He  eluded  her  desperate  attempt  to  again 
clutch  him,  slammed  the  door,  and  rushed  back 
to  his  own  room.  The  average  white  man  is  a 


Edge  of  the  Tempest  149 

cripple  without  shoes.  The  moment  he  was  shod, 
Thorpe  hastened  down  through  the  bombarded 
hotel.  A  group  of  panic-stricken  Belgians  were 
huddled  in  an  inner  courtyard.  He  passed  them 
and  peered  into  the  shattered  front  of  the  hotel, 
just  as  another  inhurled  bomb  exploded. 

Though  half  stunned  by  the  shock,  he  dashed 
forward  over  the  wreckage,  through  the  stifling 
smoke,  to  leap  out  into  the  flame-lighted  street. 
A  group  of  gray-uniformed  soldiers,  wearing 
small  German  helmets,  were  about  to  cast  other 
bombs  into  the  hotel. 

"  Hold  I  Hold!  "  Thorpe  shouted  in  German. 
"  Deutsch  within  —  Frau  von  Kissel!  " 

One  of  the  soldiers  rushed  forward  with  up- 
swung bayonet. 

"Liar!  Engldnder  schwein! "  he  yelled. 
"  Kaput!  " 

By  the  quickest  of  side-stepping  Thorpe  dodged 
the  lunging  bayonet.  He  locked  his  arms  about 
the  infuriated  German  and  held  him  as  a  shield 
against  the  upswinging  bayonets  of  the  others. 

"  Dolts!  Donkeys!  "  he  berated  them  in  their 
own  language.  ' '  I  am  American  —  not  English 
—  from  Berlin  —  friend  of  Lieutenant  von 
Kissel  —  Imperial  Guard... His  mother  and  sis- 
ter within  here." 

"  Surrender!  "  commanded  the  squad  leader. 

"  With  pleasure,"  agreed  Thorpe. 

He  freed  his  clumsily  struggling  captive  and 
stepped  back  against  the  shattered  wall  of  the 
hotel.  The  corporal  signed  to  his  men. 

"All  together,"  he  ordered.  "Ready  — 
aim  —  '  * 


150  The  Blond  Beast 

Five  rifles  swung  up  with  muzzles  pointed  at 
Thorpe's  breast.  He  glared  at  them,  astounded. 
During  the  instant  that  the  corporal  waited  to 
bark  out  the  command  to  fire,  a  myriad  of 
thoughts  flashed  across  the  field  of  Thorpe's  con- 
sciousness :  Could  this  be  war  —  this  murderous 
attack  on  an  unarmed,  inoffensive  neutral?  He 
was  being  given  no  chance,  not  even  a  drumhead 
court  martial ! . . .  And  their  own  countrywomen 
to  perish  in  the  bombed  hotel ! . . .  The  horror  of 
Lucy's  fate,  if  captured!. .  .War  —  bloody,  merci- 
less, blundering. .  .What  harm  had  he  done?... 
To  be  shot  down  like  a  dog  —  he,  one  of  Ger- 
many's most  ardent  admirers!... 

The  snarl-drawn  lips  of  the  corporal  started 
to  pucker  for  the  word  of  death  —  A  cloak- 
wrapped  figure  flung  forward  past  Thorpe's 
shoulder.  Between  his  hard-staring,  unflinching 
eyes  and  the  deadly  rifle  muzzles  came  a  maze 
of  disheveled  golden  hair.  The  girl's  hands 
stretched  out  to  the  soldiers  in  tremulous  appeal. 

"  Ach!  Ach  I"  she  quavered.  "  My  betrothed 
—  spare  him!  Do  not  —  do  not  shoot!  He  is 
the  friend  of  my  brother,  Lieutenant  von  Kissel 
of  the  Imperial  Guard.  Ach!  spare  him,  good 
men!  " 

The  German  of  Elsa's  face  could  not  be  mis- 
taken even  by  the  fight-maddened  soldiers.  Their 
snarls  became  transformed  into  the  slavering 
grins  of  boarhounds. 

"  Schmitz  —  Heinz,"  commanded  the  corporal, 
"  escort  the  fraulein  and  the  American  clear  of 
the  town.  When  they  are  passed  back,  the  Prus- 
sian Guard  can  tell  if  they  lie.  Hasten." 


Edge  of  the  Tempest  151 

"  My  mother!  "  cried  Elsa.  "  She  is  in  the 
hotel.  We  cannot  leave  her." 

"  Then  fetch  her  quickly,  fraulein.  We 
shall  hold  your  betrothed  as  hostage  against 
treachery." 

Elsa  kissed  her  lover  and  darted  into  the  hotel. 
All  except  two  guards  charged  back  up  the  street, 
where  many  houses  were  bursting  out  in  flames. 
Along  the  river  front  motor  cars  armed  with 
machine-guns  were  pouring  a  hail  of  bullets 
into  the  defenseless  town. 

"  Have  the  French  been  firing  across  the 
river?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"  New,"  answered  one  of  the  guards.  "Civil- 
ians have  fired  —  the  verdammt  franc-tireurs." 

"  But  how  can  that  be?  All  the  weapons  in 
town  have  been  delivered  up  to  the  burgo- 
master." 

"  We  have  our  orders,"  growled  the  soldier. 
He  added  significantly:  "  Only  an  enemy  will 
say  that  what  we  do  is  bad." 

Thorpe  asked  no  more  questions. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  GRAY  TORRENT 

Very  soon  Elsa  came  hurrying  back  with  her 
mother.  The  high-born  fran  was  fully  dressed. 
She  was  also  fully  self-possessed.  The  reaction 
from  fright  had  filled  her  with  vast  indignation. 
"When  Thorpe  sprang  to  take  the  baggage  borne 
by  her  and  Elsa,  she  shook  her  head  and  turned 
severely  upon  the  two  soldiers. 

"  Idle  dogs!  "  she  chided.  "  How  dare  you 
so  disturb  high-born  noblewomen  and  loaf  while 
they  cany  out  their  bags!  I  will  report  you  to 
the  High  Command." 

In  any  circumstances  less  tragic,  Thorpe  could 
have  laughed  outright  at  the  consternation  of  the 
morose  pair.  With  startled  "  Aufs! '  they 
clicked  their  heels  and  came  to  rigid  salute,  only 
to  double  over  in  forward  lurches  to  relieve  the 
high-born  ladies  of  their  burdens.  Neither  man 
objected  when  Thorpe  ran  into  the  hotel  for 
his  own  baggage. 

When  he  dashed  out  again  the  others  were 
crunching  off  over  the  splintered  glass  of  the 
hotel  windows.  He  overtook  them  as  they  hur- 
ried up  the  middle  of  the  roadway  between  the 
blazing  houses.  An  unarmed  man  in  civilian 
clothes  lay  sprawled  across  the  gutter,  his  face 

152 


The  Gray  Torrent  153 

and  throat  overspread  with  a  red  flood  from 
bayonet  stabs.  Elsa  cried  out  and  covered  her 
eyes  with  her  hands. 

Farther  along  the  party  came  to  where  a  group 
of  soldiers  were  giving  first  aid  to  four  wounded 
comrades.  They  cursed  the  people  of  Dinant  as 
franc-tireurs,  and  in  the  next  breath  called  their 
injured  mates  dolts  for  having  hurt  themselves 
with  their  own  bombs.  One  of  the  helpers  dropped 
his  bandages  and  sprang  up  to  aim  his  rifle  at 
Thorpe.  He  wilted  under  Frau  von  Kissel's 
scornful  command  to  stop  his  foolishness. 

The  party  had  passed  on  only  a  few  score 
paces  when  a  woman  ran  out  of  a  bombed  house, 
crying  in  French  that  her  little  girl's  foot  had 
been  blown  off.  Without  a  trace  of  hesitancy, 
Heinz  shot  the  frantic  mother  through  the  heart 

"  God!  "  cried  Thorpe.  "  A  woman  —  YouVe 
murdered  her!  ' 

The  soldier  grinned  ferociously.  "  She  was 
attacking  us,  the  franc-tireur  sow!  That's  what 
all  Dinant  will  get  They  harbored  the  French 
apes." 

"  Ach,  the  low  Belgians,  they  should  be  pun- 
ished," agreed  Frau  von  KisseL  "  But  this 
woman  —  she  did  not  mean  harm.  You  shot 
too  soon." 

"  How  was  I  to  know,  high-born  frau!  "We  are 
in  the  enemy's  country.  Our  orders  are  to  take 
no  chances.  War  is  war." 

A  mile  or  so  out  on  the  Cerny  road  the  party 
passed  a  motor  ambulance.  Within  the  hour  it 
came  rumbling  back  from  Dinant.  Schmitz 
stopped  it  and  gave  Thorpe  and  the  ladies  into 


154  The  Blond  Beast 

the  care  of  its  black-bearded  surgeon.  Though 
the  four  soldiers  who  had  been  injured  by  their 
own  bombs  lay  on  the  stretchers,  there  was  room 
left  to  accommodate  the  refugees  and  their 


As  the  two  guards  saluted  and  hastened  back 
to  rejoin  the  attack  on  unresisting  Dinant,  Thorpe 
drew  in  a  shuddering  breath  of  relief.  Thanks 
be,  the  ambulance  was  swiftly  bearing  him  and 
Elsa  away  from  that  fringe  of  hell !  —  But  what 
was  this  the  surgeon  was  saying? 

In  reply  to  Elsa's  gentle  regrets  that  even  the 
enemy  must  suffer,  the  man  of  healing  sought  to 
soothe  her  with  cheerful  assertions  of  the  allevi- 
ation that  modern  surgery  would  bring  to  the 
battlefields.  The  war  would  be  overwhelming  to 
the  enemy,  and  therefore  mercifully  short.  In  a 
week  or  two  the  French  army  would  be  crushed 
and  Paris  captured.  There  would  be  none  of  the 
sickness  and  starvation  and  wastage  of  a  long- 
drawn-out  war.  Given  more  Red  Cross  helpers, 
the  suffering  even  of  the  wounded  would  be  brief. 
Greatest  need  of  all  was  stretcher-bearers  not 
afraid  to  pick  up  wounded  men  in  the  midst  of 
the  fighting  and  rush  them  back  to  where  they 
could  be  given  surgical  aid. 

Before  Thorpe 's  mental  gaze  rose  a  vision  of 
Lucy  wheeling  her  big  car  along  the  French  lines, 
with  bullet-maimed  blue-coated  soldiers  staining 
her  delicate  tonneau  linings  a  more  vivid  red 
than  that  of  their  absurd  pantaloons.  If  she,  a 
mere  slip  of  a  girl,  could  think  of  lingering  within 
sound  of  the  cannon,  what  of  himself  I  Here  was 
this  black-bearded  surgeon  recounting  how  many 


The  Gray  Torrent  155 

more  of  the  injured  could  be  saved  if  treated 
before  the  infection  of  their  wounds  by  gangrene. 

Of  a  sudden  Thorpe  heard  his  own  voice  asking 
a  sharp  question :  "A  neutral  —  can  he  be  a 
stretcher-bearer  in  your  service?  " 

"  Ja,  ja,  and  most  welcome,  Herr  Thorpe. " 

But  Elsa  had  caught  the  purport  of  the  inquiry. 

"  Allan!  You  will  not  —  you  cannot  so  leave 
me!  There  is  no  need.  We  are  glad  that  Kurt 
fights  for  the  Fatherland.  But  you  —  you  are 
not  bound.  You  will  come  with  us  to  Berlin!  " 

Thorpe  pointed  to  the  stretchers. 

"  Can  you  ask  that  of  me,  darling,  when  you 
hear  those  poor  fellows  groaning.  You  know 
how  glad  Pd  be  to  stay  with  you  —  always.  But 
we've  seen  a  little  of  what  war  means.'* 

"  You  are  not  a  soldier.  There  will  be  no 
glory  —  only  danger!  " 

"  Glory  be  hanged!  You  must  understand, 
Elsa,  It's  the  thought  of  men  lying  out  there, 
suffering,  in  the  rain  or  blistering  sun.  Think 
how  it  may  be  with  Kurt." 

Frau  von  Kissel  roused  from  the  half  doze 
into  which  the  vibrant  humming  of  the  ambulance 
had  lulled  her  — "  Ach,  mem  Kurtzie...Be  not 
so  selfish,  Elsa,  If  Allant  helps,  another  man 
will  be  able  to  fight,  nicU?  " 

11  But  I  can't  vounteer  if  that  is  true,  Tante," 
protested  Thorpe.  "  It  wouldn't  be  neutral." 

"  Pfuil  "  she  hissed.  "  Neutral?  You  so  near 
to  a  betrothal . . .  and  against  French  apes  and 
Russian  schwemhunds!  " 

11  The  aid  of  Herr  Thorpe  would  make  no 
change  in  the  regular  hospital  and  ambulance 


156  The  Blond  Beast 

contingent,*'  interposed  the  surgeon  opportunely. 

"  That  settles  it,  Doctor,"  Thorpe  hastened  to 
hush  Elsa's  entreaties.  "  But  you're  with  the 
Saxons,  you  say.  Could  I  get  with  the  Prussian 
Guard  Corps?  I'd  like  to  be  near  my  friend, 
Lieutenant  von  Kissel." 

"  Ja.  The  Prussian  Guard  marches  behind 
us  —  all  under  the  High  Command  of  Herr 
General  von  Hausen,  late  chief  of  staff  of  the 
Duke  of  Wurttemberg. " 

Frau  von  Kissel  flushed  and  beamed  with  the 
delight  of  a  fond  mother.  "  God  be  praised! 
Kurtzie  —  Kurtzie!  AchI  to  see  him!  " 

"  I'll  be  with  his  regiment,  sweetheart," 
Thorpe  whispered  in  the  pretty  ear  of  his  silently 
weeping  beloved.  "  Isn't  that  bully?  " 

The  girl  pressed  her  quivering  lips  upon  his 
hand  in  a  fervor  of  abnegation.  "  For  Kurt  — 
and  the  Fatherland  —  go.  But  do  not  take  need- 
less risks!  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  like  the  Chocolate  Soldier.  Count  on 
me  to  dodge  lead  and  lie  doggo  when  the  lying  is 
good,"  rallied  Thorpe. 

Elsa  nestled  closer  to  him.  The  surgeon  had 
turned  to  examine  by  the  light  of  an  electric  torch 
one  of  the  wounded  men  who  had  ceased  moaning. 
Frau  von  Kissel  was  dozing  off  again.  The  lovers 
thrilled  with  the  bliss  of  touching  heads  and 
hands  and  shoulders. .  .while  almost  within  arm's 
reach  of  them  the  face  of  the  soldier  who  no 
longer  moaned  turned  gray  and  cold.  Nowhere 
does  life  pulse  warmer  than  in  the  presence  of 
death.  Nowhere  is  heaven  more  heavenly  than 
on  the  brink  of  hell. 


The  Gray  Torrent  157 

Challenges,  flares,  quick-spoken  countersigns  — 
Thorpe  peered  out  and  saw  that  the  ambulance 
was  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  bivouac,  shadowed 
by  woods.  The  car  veered  into  the  courtyard  of 
a  Belgian  villa.  Within  this  beautiful  country 
home  of  some  wealthy  Belgian,  all  was  riotous 
confusion  and  destruction  —  furniture  upset, 
glass  and  pictures  smashed,  valuables  plundered. 
But  only  Thorpe  commented  on  the  wreckage. 

Elsa  and  her  mother  ate  heartily  of  the  rich 
food  that  was  served  them  in  the  ravaged  dining- 
room  by  a  hospital  orderly.  The  ladies  were 
then  bowed  to  the  personal  suite  of  the  vanished 
owner  of  the  villa.  Thorpe  had  a  guest  chamber 
hardly  less  luxurious.  His  qualms  over  accepting 
the  brigand-like  hospitality  were  not  eased  when, 
at  dawn,  he  found  the  three  survivors  of  the  self- 
bombed  soldiers  lying  on  straw  in  the  littered 
parlor. 

The  black-bearded  surgeon  fastened  Eed  Cross 
armlets  on  his  sleeves  and  gave  him  hasty  first- 
aid  instructions  while  they  waited  for  the  ladies. 
After  a  heavy  breakfast,  the  three  guests  whirled 
away  in  the  gray  car  of  a  young  staff  officer  who 
had  heard  General  von  Hausen  mention  the  Von 
Kissels. 

From  the  moment  he  left  the  villa  Thorpe 
found  himself  staring  around  with  an  astonish- 
ment that  verged  upon  awe.  Elsa  and  her  mother 
all  but  wept  with  patriotic  pride.  The  whole 
countryside  about  the  villa  swarmed  with  mul- 
titudes of  German  soldiers,  all  uniformed  in  a 
marvelous  green-tinged  gray  that  melted  from 
view  even  at  fairly  short  distances. 


158  The  Blond  Beast 

A  vast  number  of  units  had  already  marched 
on  from  the  night's  bivouac,  led  by  uhlans  and 
the  bicycle  corps.  Other  multitudes  were  swing- 
ing into  or  along  the  road  with  the  precision  and 
absolute  lack  of  confusion  that  iron  discipline 
alone  could  have  enforced  among  such  numbers. 
Uhlans  on  magnificent  horses  dashed  forward 
beside  the  dense  columns  in  the  road,  their  lance 
pennants  fluttering  and  bell-like  bugles  blowing. 

The  young  aide's  staff  car  raced  at  high 
speed  eastward  on  the  narrow  strip  of  roadway, 
that  was  left  clear  along  the  side  by  the  westward- 
advancing  river  of  troops.  Thorpe's  astonish- 
ment increased,  instead  of  lessening.  The 
on-sweeping  gray  host  was  not  a  mere  stream  — 
it  was  a  flood.  There  was  nothing  about  it  to 
suggest  the  traditional  gay-plumaged  pageant  of 
war.  All  the  vast  menacing  torrent  was  the  same 
dull  and  somber  field  gray  —  regiment  after  regi- 
ment with  iron-shod  boots  beating  time  on  the 
dusty  gray  macadam,  rattling  gray  machine-guns 
and  three-inch  cannon,  ponderous  rumbling  mis- 
shapen gray  howitzers  of  six-  and  nine-  and 
twelve-inch  calibre,  gray  ammunition  carts  and 
transportation  wagons,  gray  staff  cars  that 
whisked  back  and  forth  at  terrific  speed  along  the 
rigidly  straight  clean-cut  edge  of  the  gigantic 
unbroken  torrent. 

In  partial  offset  to  the  lack  of  bright  colors  and 
the  ominous  heavy  rumbling  of  the  war  monsters, 
there  was  relief  in  the  many  blaring  bands  and 
the  frequent  bursts  of  song  from  the  swift- 
marching  thousands  of  infantry  —  most  often 
"  DeutscMand,  Deutschland  uber  Alles."  Thorpe 


The  Gray  Torrent  159 

did  not  have  to  tax  his  imagination  to  picture 
the  invading  myriads  as  a  gray  tide  of  storm  and 
death  sweeping  irresistibly  onward  to  deluge  and 
overwhelm  all  France. 

Yet  somewhere  far  back  in  his  consciousness 
lingered  a  shadow  of  a  doubt.  He  remembered 
the  fierce  defiance  with  which  the  French  regi- 
ment had  shouted  the  Marseillaise  as  they 
marched  into  Belgium  to  meet  the  gray  invaders. 
Such  men  would  fight  to  the  death. .  .Yes,  to  the 
death... And  what  of  it?  How  could  even  such 
zeal  as  that  avail  against  the  tremendous  invin- 
cible might  of  Imperial  Germany? 

Endless  as  seemed  the  grim  array  of  the  Saxon 
corps,  the  speeding  car  at  last  swirled  past  the 
main  body  and  turned  aside  to  a  chateau  that 
had  been  chosen  for  staff  headquarters.  Here  the 
monotonous  field  gray  was  relieved  by  the 
brighter  uniforms  of  high  staff  officers  —  light 
blue  and  silver,  scarlet  and  gold,  burnished  hel- 
mets, patent  leather  boots,  gay  plumes  —  all  the 
familiar  gorgeous  military  panoply  to-  which 
Thorpe  was  accustomed  in  Berlin. 

The  young  aide  escorted  his  guests  in,  past  a 
dubious  sentry.  Fortune  favored  the  visitors. 
The  big  commander  of  the  Third  Army  had 
breakfasted  well,  his  plans  were  working  with 
clock-like  smoothness,  and  a  lull  had  come  in 
his  morning >s  rush  of  reports  and  orders.  He 
was  pleased  to  greet  with  gruff  condescension 
Frau  and  Fraulein  von  Kissel  and  Herr  Thorpe, 
all  just  escaped  from  France.  To  be  sure,  when 
he  found  how  little  his  callers  had  to  tell  about 
conditions  in  France,  his  cordiality  noticeably 


160  The  Blond  Beast 

cooled.  But  his  smile  returned  at  Elsa's  nai've 
expression  of  thankfulness  in  the  safety  of  his 
protection  and  at  Frau  von  Kissel's  congratu- 
lations over  his  appointment  to  the  command  of 
the  Saxon  Army  and  the  Imperial  Guard. 

"  Ach,  himmel—i could  I  but  have  a  chance 
to  show  my  strategy,**  he  rumbled  from  his  out- 
swelling  chest.  "  The  French  are  too  simple. 
Had  not  fool  little  Belgium  chosen  to  commit 
suicide,  we  should  have  jumped  in  at  the  French 
side  door  while  old  Joffre  blocked  the  front 
between  Verdun  and  Switzerland.  Still  better, 
though,  we  now  shall  catch  the  red-legged  rats 
out  of  their  holes,  nicht?  We  struck  at  Liege, 
but  stopped  our  advance  to  the  south.  These  two 
weeks  we  have  waited  while  the  French  have 
rushed  into  the  trap.  Now  Von  Kluck  is  already 
so  far  as  Brussels.  Billow  swings  after,  on  his 
left  wing.  On  my  left,  Wurttemberg  and  the 
Crown  Prince  strike  through  the  Ardennes,  to 
break  in  and  cut  off  the  French  retreat.  The  nut- 
crackers will  close  as  I  smash  at  the  middle. 
Another  Sedan  for  all  the  Belgian  and  French 
forces  between  Antwerp  and  the  Aisne,  before 
the  real  Sedan  Day  of  September  the  Fourth, 
when  we  shall  have  wiped  out  the  other  French 
armies  and  taken  Paris.'* 

"  But,  Herr  General,"  ventured  Thorpe,  "  how 
about  passing  Namur  and  Maubeuge  and  Verdun 
and  the  other  great  fortresses,  if  Liege  held  out 
so  long?  " 

The  general  smiled  his  contempt. 

"  Phuff!  Those  boxes  will  last  two  days, 
maybe  three,  before  our  howitzers.  I  have  said 


The  Gray  Torrent  161 

we  played  fox  at  Liege — we  but  marked  time 
while  the  French  rushed  north  into  our  trap." 

The  big  man  heaved  a  sigh  of  regret : 

"  Ach,  ach  —  so  simple  —  too  simple!  I  will 
have  no  chance  to  display  my  strategy.  First 
North  France  and  Belgium;  then  Paris  and  the 
rest;  after  that  the  ramshackle,  top-heavy  Russ 
army  that  will  topple  over  and  crumble  at  the 
first  blow.  Then,  last  of  all,  that  devil-fish  octo- 
pus England." 

11  The  British  fleet?  "  suggested  Thorpe.  "  It 
balked  even  Napoleon." 

"  Why?  —  The  thieving  shopkeeping  schweine 
stole  the  Danish  fleet  before  Napoleon  could  seize 
it.  But  we  will  add  the  French  and  Buss  fleets 
to  our  own,  and  swim  the  Channel.  The  con- 
temptible little  English  army  we  will  stamp  into 
the  mire.  Then  shall  Deutschland  rule  supreme. 
Truly,  as  Bernhardi  said,  this  war  means  world 
dominion. ' ' 

"  Or  downfall,"  Thorpe  completed  the  quota- 
tion. 

The  general's  fist  crashed  upon  his  map- 
strewn  table.  , 

"  Nein,  neint  The  army  of  the  Fatherland  is 
invincible  —  absolutely  invincible  —  absolutely.  A 
short  war  we  shall  have  —  short  and  joyous!  " 

"Your  army  is  grand  —  stupendous!"  ex- 
claimed Thorpe,  with  a  tactfulness  that  was 
backed  by  sincere  conviction.  He  showed  his 
Red  Cross  armlets.  "  I  presume  that  Lieutenant 
von  Kissel  is  with  the  Guards  under  your  com- 
mand, Herr  General.  May  I  be  assigned  to  hos- 
pital service  in  his  regiment?  " 


162  The  Blond  Beast 

"  You  would  serve?  Good.  Ach,  now  I  see. 
The  tender  blue  eyes  fire  you  to  serve  the  Father- 
land and  keep  watch  upon  the  brother  —  nichtf  " 

"  Herr  General  is  a  good  guesser.  May  I  ask 
the  favor  of  a  car  to  take  the  frau  and  fraulein 
to  the  rear,  with  permission  for  them  to  see 
Kurt  in  passing?  " 

"  Go,  fetch  the  son.  I  would  see  him  myself. 
I  have  not  forgotten  his  suggestion  of  a  lighter 
pack,  though  Der  Tag  came  too  soon  for  the 
change  to  be  made.  If  he  receives  favorable 
mention  in  the  first  fighting,  I  will  detail  him  to 
my  personal  staff." 

In  the  midst  of  Frau  von  Kissel's  effusive 
thanks  to  the  pompous  general,  Thorpe  hastened 
out  with  a  written  order  in  his  hand.  It  won 
him  a  car  and  a  military  chauffeur  to  whir  on 
eastward  to  the  as  yet  unbroken  bivouac  of  the 
Prussian  Guard.  Once  in  the  camp  of  that  corps 
d' elite  of  all  the  magnificent  German  armies, 
inquiry  sent  the  chauffeur  speeding  on  a  shoot  up 
a  cross  road  to  a  small  chateau  where  was  estab- 
lished the  headquarters  of  Kurt's  regiment. 

Thorpe  had  handed  over  General  von  Hausen's 
order  to  the  chauffeur.  Full  of  impetuous  eager- 
ness to  find  his  friend,  he  now  rushed  in  without 
asking  the  man  to  accompany  him.  He  darted 
past  the  outer  sentry  before  the  slow-witted  peas- 
ant could  interpose.  Inside  the  courtyard  a  more 
alert  sentry  brought  him  up  short  at  the  point  of 
a  leveled  bayonet.  The  man  cried  out.  Other 
guards  came  running  to  seize  the  civilian. 

What  followed  seemed  to  Thorpe's  bewildered 
mind  more  the  insensate,  grotesque  happenings 


The  Gray  Torrent  163 

of  a  nightmare  than  logical  reality.  His  attempts 
to  speak  —  to  explain  —  were  silenced  by  blows 
on  the  mouth  and  menacing  bayonet  pricks.  Bru- 
tal hands  jerked  and }  dragged  him  into  a  little 
garden  whose  trampled  flowers  were  strewn  with 
shattered  wine  bottles.  Around  a  fine  old  mahog- 
any table  that  had  been  tumbled  out  through  the 
smashed  French  windows  on  the  chateau  terrace, 
a  group  of  officers  sat  guzzling  champagne  and 
roaring  a  discordant  beer-song.  The  bullet- 
riddled  corpse  of  a  Belgian  gentleman,  probably 
the  owner  of  the  chateau,  was  lashed  upright  in  a 
chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  in  cynical  imitation 
of  the  classical  skeleton  at  the  feast. 

The  sight  of  Thorpe  in  the  grasp  of  the 
guards  brought  a  sudden  ominous  hush  to  the 
drunken  merriment. 

11  Another  franc-tireur!  "  yelled  a  lieutenant, 
and  he  jerked  out  his  service  pistol. 

"  Engldnder  schweirihund!  "  cursed  a  major. 

"  No  —  Americanisch  —  Americanisch !  " 
gasped  Thorpe,  half  choked  by  his  captors. 

"  Silence  the  dog!  "  commanded  a  harsh  voice, 
and  the  tall  figure  of  Captain  von  Pappheim 
reared  up  at  the  far  side  of  the  bottle-heaped 
table.  ' '  The  rascal  is  known  to  me.  He  fled  from 
Berlin  to  France  with  a  spy  woman.  Go  on  with 
your  toasts,  gentlemen.  I  will  attend  to  him.'* 

A  dirty  cloth  had  been  whipped  around  over 
Thorpe's  mouth.  He  was  wrenched  about  and 
dragged  back  into  the  courtyard.  Behind  him  he 
heard  a  peal  of  hoarse  laughter  and  shouts  of 
"  Prosit!  '  The  orgy  was  under  full  way  again. 

Von  Pappheim  came  around  before  the  pris- 


164  The  Blond  Beast 

oner,  his  legs  perceptibly  unsteady  and  his  steel- 
blue  eyes  reddened  from  drink. 

"  So  the  American  fool  also  walked  into  the 
trap!  "  he  gloated.  "  Speak  quickly,  you  swine 
dog!  Where  is  that  copper-haired  cocotte?  " 

At  a  sign  from  him,  the  men  removed  their 
captive's  gag.  Thorpe  gasped  his  smothered 
lungs  full  of  air,  looked  Von  Pappheim  squarely 
in  the  eye,  and  answered  with  cool  deliberation: 
"  I  do  not  know  any  copper-haired  cocotte." 

"  Liar!  "  shouted  the  Prussian.  "  Tell  quickly! 
That  spy  woman  Carew  —  where  is  she  1  ' ' 

Thorpe's  bruised  lips  quirked  in  a  bantering 
smile.  "  By  now,  Miss  Carew  should  be  well 
on  her  way  to  Calais." 

The  drink-flushed  face  of  Von  Pappheim  pur- 
pled with  chagrin.  At  his  gesture  the  soldiers 
thrust  their  prisoner  against  the  outer  wall  of 
the  courtyard.  For  the  second  time  in  less  than 
a  full  day  Thorpe  found  himself  confronted  by  a 
firing  squad. 

"  Hold,"  commanded  Von  Pappheim.  "  Bul- 
lets would  be  too  easy  for  the  spy  pig.  Cold 
steel  will  make  him  squeal  louder.  Begin  only 
with  a  tickling." 

Kurt  von  Kissel  swung  in  through  the  gate- 
way, beaming  with  joyful  anticipation.  At  sight 
of  Thorpe,  penned  against  the  wall  by  the  semi- 
circle of  soldiers  he  cried  out  in  horror  and 
flung  himself  forward  between  his  friend  and  the 
thrusting  bayonets.  Von  Pappheim 's  eyes  blazed 
with  malevolent  fury. 

"  Aside!  "  he  commanded. 

The  disciplined  lieutenant  obediently  stepped 


The  Gray  Torrent  165 

clear,  but  his  voice  shrilled  a  warning :  '  *  Beware, 
Herr  Captain.  He  is  sent  by  General  von 
Hausen. ' ' 

"A  lie !  "  scoffed  the  enraged  captain. 

"  Messenger  with  an  order,  in  a  staff  car," 
insisted  Kurt.  "  Ask  the  chauffeur." 

He  called  through  the  gateway.  Von  Papphehn 
stood  scowling,  so  far  gone  in  drink  that  he  was 
more  than  ready  to  force  the  execution  and  ask 
questions  afterwards.  But  the  signature  of  the 
High  Commander  on  the  order  brought  in  by  the 
chauffeur  sobered  him  even  at  the  height  of  his 
drunken  rage.  He  dismissed  the  soldiers  with  a 
curse,  and  staggered  back  into  the  desecrated 
garden. 

"  Talk  about  barbarity!  "  muttered  Thorpe, 
his  hand  limp  in  Kurt's  fervid  clasp.  "  If  this 
is  the  way  your  army  makes  war  —  ' ' 

"  How  can  you  think  it,  Allan  I  "  reproached 
his  friend.  "  You  must  have  seen  the  captain's 
condition  —  too  intoxicated  to  realize  what  he 
was  doing.  But  now  you  're  safe . . .  Tell  me !  The 
mother  and  Elsa  and  —  my  beloved  Lucy?  " 

"All  safe  —  so  far,"  answered  Thorpe.  "I 
can  talk  better  in  the  car.  I  want  to  get  away 
from  here." 

But  the  return  drive  to  general  headquarters 
gave  Thorpe  scant  time  to  answer  all  of  Kurt's 
eager  inquiries.  He  skimmed  over  what  had 
happened  to  himself  and  Elsa  and  Frau  von 
Kissel,  and  then,  despite  an  odd  twinge  of  reluc- 
tance that  perplexed  him,  he  told  more  fully 
about  Lucy's  daring  ventures.  Kurt's  rosy  cheeks 
went  white. 


166  The  Blond  Beast 

*  *  You  let  her  stay,  Allan  —  stay  with  thos* 
duped  Frenchmen?  "  he  cried.  "  You  do  not 
know!  They  are  all  trapped.  She'll  be  caught 
in  the  very  midst... Our  big  guns  —  Frightful 
accounts  have  come  from  Liege  and  Namur  about 
our  high-explosive  nine-  and  twelve-inch  shells 
. . .  Great  pits  blasted  out  of  the  solid  concrete 
at  every  shot.  Yet  she  —  I  thought  you  my 
friend!  " 

"  Buck  up,"  encouraged  Thorpe,  his  own  face 
by  no  means  smiling.  "  Trust  the  parley- vous  to 
keep  her  back  out  of  range.  Besides,  the  Bed 
Cross  is  of  course  safe  from  rifle  fire  and  shell- 
ing—  hospitals,  ambulances,  and  stretcher-bear- 
ers—  luckily  for  me." 

Kurt  smiled  in  cheerful  reaction  from  his 
apprehensions. 

"  With  our  Kaiser  and  God,  soon  it  shall  be 
ended.  A  short  campaign  and  joyous !  We  shall 
win  our  just  war  for  freedom  and  defense,  and 
then  —  then  Lucy  need  not  fear  to  return.  The 
claws  of  the  Fatherland  *s  envious  foes  will  have 
been  clipped  for  all  time,  and  we,  like  America, 
will  no  longer  have  reason  to  suspect  anyone  of 
spying." 

"  Hope  so,"  put  in  Thorpe.  "  Well,  here  we 
are  —  No  need  to  tell  you  how  keen  the  mother 
and  Elsa  are  to  see  their  soldier  boy." 

The  general  was  busy  again  with  his  reports 
and  orders.  The  ladies  had  been  escorted  to  a 
secluded  room,  where  they  could  embrace  and 
weep  over  Kurt  without  disturbing  others  or 
being  disturbed.  A  car  was  waiting  to  take  the 
party  to  the  nearest  railway  station,  with  an 


The  Gray  Torrent  167 

order  from  the  High  General  for  the  ladies  to 
be  given  accommodations  on  one  of  the  returning 
munitions  trains. 

A  train  was  on  the  point  of  leaving.  There 
was  a  final  parting  on  the  station  platform,  under 
the  eyes  of  the  gaping  trainmen  and  guards  —  an 
embrace  of  the  tearful  frau  by  Kurt,  and  of  the 
still  more  tearful  Elsa  by  Thorpe  —  then  the 
train  rolled  swiftly  away  towards  the  German 
frontier.  Thorpe  gazed  after  it,  heavy  with 
longing  for  the  angelically  sweet  girl  that  it  was 
bearing  away  from  him,  yet  vaguely  relieved  that 
there  would  be  no  more  tears  to  dampen  his 
shirt  front.  Elsa  was  the  epitome  of  loveliness 
—  he  still  thrilled  from  the  delicious  tenderness 
of  her  parting  embrace.  But  he  had  been  born 
and  bred  an  American.  He  was  not  used  to 
public  demonstrations  of  grief  and  love. 

At  Thorpe 's  suggestion,  the  car  was  dismissed, 
and  the  friends  cut  across  country,  afoot,  for  the 
bivouac  of  Kurt's  regiment 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  BEAST  EAMPANT 

The  Imperial  Prussian  Guard,  that  largest  and 
most  magnificent  of  all  German  corps,  had  got 
under  way  in  the  wake  of  the  Saxon  army.  Its 
more  than  fifty  thousand  horse,  foot  and  artillery 
were  moving  forward  in  perfect  order  towards 
the  left,  or  Givet-Dinant,  wing  of  General  von 
Hausen's  van.  His  battle  line  extended  from 
the  north  tip  of  the  French  frontier  spur,  down 
the  Meuse  to  the  already  half  destroyed  Belgian 
fortress  of  Namur. 

When  the  hurrying  friends  overtook  Kurt's 
regiment,  the  young  officer  gave  Thorpe  a  warm 
introduction  to  a  medical  acquaintance.  Quite 
unintentionally,  his  wording  of  the  bare  facts 
about  the  American  volunteer  left  room  for  col- 
orful inferences.  The  big  surgeon-major  actu- 
ally paused  in  the  eating  of  his  pocket  lunch  of 
sausage  and  champagne  to  wring  Thorpe's  hand. 

"  Ach!  A  protege  of  Herr  General  von  Hau- 
sen,  a  heart's  friend  of  Herr  Lieutenant  von  Kis- 
sel, a  representative  of  the  great  American  people 
who  has  proved  the  sympathy  of  his  country 
for  the  Fatherland  by  volunteering  to  give  aid 
—  most  welcome  is  so  high-minded  a  helper !  ' 

Kurt  dropped  a  hint  that  Thorpe,  being  a  gen- 
168 


The  Beast  Rampant  169 

tleman  volunteer,  might  properly  be  invited  to 
sit  at  officers'  mess.  No  more  was  required  to 
establish  Thorpe's  social  status.  Decent  treat- 
ment even  from  Von  Pappheim  could  be  expected 
after  the  spreading  of  the  report  that  the  Amer- 
ican was  a  personal  friend  of  the  High  Com- 
mander. Kurt  had  not  stated  this  as  a  fact.  But 
he  made  no  attempt  to  correct  the  error  of  the 
surgeon.  Thorpe  preserved  a  like  golden  silence. 
He  had  no  hankering  for  walls  and  firing  squads, 
and  he  remembered  all  too  well  the  look  of  fury 
and  hate  in  Von  Pappheim 's  drink-reddened  eyes. 

For  the  time  being,  however,  there  was  reason 
to  believe  that  the  thoughts  of  the  hatchet-faced 
count  were  engrossed  with  other  matters  than  his 
enmity  against  the  American.  All  members  of 
the  Guard  were  as  tense  as  leashed  hounds  that 
have  scented  the  blood-trail  of  the  quarry.  They 
knew  that  their  general's  right  wing  had  joined 
Von  Biilow  in  the  bombardment  of  Namur.  They 
knew  that  south  of  them  the  army  of  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Wurttemberg  was  battling  forward  into 
the  French  Ardennes. 

And  now,  from  the  van  of  the  Saxon  columns 
ahead,  the  field  telephone  had  begun  to  call  back 
messages  of  a  hot  artillery  and  rifle  engage- 
ment with  the  enemy  across  the  Meuse.  The  dis- 
tant booming  of  the  cannon  that  rolled  back  over 
the  wooded  hills  was  accented  by  occasional 
deeper  roars  from  the  great  howitzers. 

But  the  Guard  were  permitted  no  share  in  the 
first  day's  furious  skirmishes  and  efforts  to  force 
a  crossing  of  the  river.  To  kill  time  there  was 
much  roystering  and  pillaging  and  guzzling  of 


170  The  Blond  Beast 

wine  from  the  chateaux  and  villas  that  had  been 
overlooked  or  only  partly  looted  by  the  hurried 
raiding  parties  of  the  Saxons. 

During  the  afternoon  Thorpe  remained  with  his 
ambulance  section,  and  was  so  intent  upon  his 
lessons  in  first-aid  that  he  paid  no  heed  to  what 
was  happening  around  him.  At  nightfall,  how- 
ever, the  ravaging  of  the  invaders  was  forced 
upon  his  attention.  All  over  the  country  ahead, 
pillars  of  flame-reddened  smoke  told  of  burning 
villages,  farm  houses  and  chateaux.  Like  those 
terrible  war  novels  of  Sienkiewicz,  "  Fire  and 
Sword  "  was  preceding  "  The  Deluge." 

Kurt  introduced  Thorpe  at  officers'  mess,  which 
was  served  upon  carved  rosewood  tables  in  the 
salon  of  a  particularly  artistic  chateau.  Every- 
one except  Von  Pappheim  greeted  the  volunteer 
with  suave  cordiality.  All  were  jubilant  over  the 
most  recent  rumor:  The  United  States  had  de- 
clared war  on  Japan  and  was  about  to  enter  into 
an  alliance  with  Germany.  Even  Kurt  fatu- 
ously bolted  the  fantastic  tale  whole.  Thorpe 
masked  his  incredulity. 

The  officers  acted  like  exultant  madmen.  Even 
the  higher  ones  had  become  intoxicated  with 
champagne  and  the  still  headier  wine  of  the  war 
fever.  Thorpe  sat  at  table  next  to  Kurt  and 
tried  to  look  pleasant  while  his  new  messmates 
shouted  toasts  and  sang  and  guzzled  amazing 
quantities  of  wine.  The  careless  Saxons  had 
overlooked  five  thousand  bottles  in  the  lower 
cellars  of  the  chateau.  Before  long,  the  younger 
officers  began  to  vaunt  how  the  enemy  civilians 
were  being  pacified  — 


The  Beast  Rampant  171 

Shots  had  been  fired  —  soldiers  injured.  What 
matter  if  the  miserable  villagers  howled  and 
prayed?  What  matter  if  they  whined  that  the 
soldiers  had  fired  on  each  other  by  mistake,  or 
that  French  patrols  had  sought  to  harass  the 
advance?  The  cattle  needed  blood-letting.  Mere 
suspicion  of  resistance  was  good  enough  excuse 
to  shoot  down  the  schweinhunds.  Clean  them 
out,  man,  woman  and  child  together,  the  foul  pigs, 
and  burn  their  sties.  Terrify  the  verdammt 
franc-tireurs. 

So  should  the  enemy  ahead  be  stricken  with 
panic.  So  should  all  Belgium  and  France  be 
paralyzed  by  frightfulness  and  unable  to  offer 
resistance  to  the  invincible  armies  of  Deutsch- 
land.  Had  not  the  High  Command  and  the  All- 
Highest,  Majestdt  himself,  declared  that  any 
means  of  winning  was  justifiable;  that  ruthless- 
ness  was  scientific  and  meant  a  short  war;  that 
to  suffer  was  uplifting,  and  to  inflict  suffering  on 
the  enemy  still  more  uplifting?  — "  Hoch  der 
Kaiser!  Deutschland,  Deutschland  iiber  Alles!  ' 

For  a  time  Von  Pappheim  kept  a  morose  watch 
on  the  American  guest,  who  was  barely  touching 
his  wineglass  to  his  lips  at  each  toast.  He  at 
last  broke  in  on  the  drunken  merriment  to  fix 
the  attention  of  all  upon  Thorpe  with  a  query  of 
mock  concern: 

"  Himmel!  Our  good  Herr  Volunteer  does  not 
drink.  Can  it  be  that  the  wine  is  distasteful  to 
him,  or  is  it  the  toasts  ?  ' ' 

Thorpe  stood  up  and  raised  his  glass  of  spark- 
ling champagne.  In  the  sudden  hush  his  voice 
rang  out  clear  and  assured: 


172  The  Blond  Beast 

"  I  am  one  of  those  creatures,  most  strange  to 
you  —  a  total  abstainer.  But  I  now  offer  to  the 
officers  of  Majestat  this  toast:  Victory  to  the 
heroes  who  fight  in  the  defense  of  their  beloved 
country. ' ' 

There  was  a  great  shout,  and  every  glass  in 
the  salon  was  emptied  to  the  last  drop.  Every 
wine-fuddled  Prussian  took  the  toast  as  a  per- 
sonal compliment.  Even  Von  Pappheim  mellowed 
to  half  maudlin  amity.  Kurt  alone  might  have 
detected  the  audacious  ambiguity  of  his  friend's 
words,  but  he  also  was  too  overcome  with  wine 
for  clear  thinking.  The  war  fever  had  broken 
down  his  habitual  abstemiousness. 

The  wild  carousal  now  fast  developed  into  a 
drunken  orgy.  At  the  close  of  an  obscene  beer- 
song  Von  Pappheim  raised  a  shout:  "  Where  are 
the  hostesses?  Bring  them  in  —  bring  them  in! 
They  should  entertain  their  merry  guests!  " 

At  once  a  dozen  maudlin  voices  caught  up  the 
cry.  Several  of  the  waiter  orderlies  hurried  out. 
They  rushed  back,  half -dragging,  half-carrying  in 
their  brutal  grasp  a  slender  little  Belgian  lady 
and  her  daughter,  a  pretty  petite  black-eyed  girl 
of  sixteen  or  seventeen.  Both  were  white-faced 
and  wide-eyed  with  dread.  They  were  greeted 
with  a  babel  of  mocking  compliments  and  felicita- 
tions, above  which  rose  Von  Pappheim 's  raucous 
shout : 

"Dance!  Dance!  —  Stand  clear,  you  louts! 
Make  room  for  the  frau  and  fraulein  to  dance  for 
their  merry  guests!  " 

The  orderlies  fell  back  from  the  taunted  ladies, 
kicking  the  parquetry  floor  clear  of  the  broken 


The  Beast  Rampant  173 

furniture,  shattered  dishes  and  empty  champagne 
bottles.  One  of  them  started  a  recent  Italian 
dance  record  on  the  half-broken  cabinet  gramo- 
phone. An  officer  staggered  over  to  sweep  a  row 
of  bottles  from  the  keys  of  the  grand  piano. 

1 1  Dance !  ' '  yelled  the  drink-frenzied  carousers. 
'  *  Tarantella !  Tarantella !  ' ' 

The  frightened  mother  held  out  her  arms  to 
them  in  piteous  entreaty. 

"Messieurs  —  messieurs,"  she  implored  in 
French,  " spare  us!  In  God's  name,  permit  us 
to  return  to  the  husband  and  father  whom  you 
have  killed  without  cause!  Would  you  force  us 
to  dance  upon  his  gravel  ' 

Von  Pappheim  thrust  back  his  chair  and  reeled 
to  his  feet,  face  crimson,  mouth  skewed  by  a 
cruel  sneer,  eyes  fixed  upon  the  young  girl  in  a 
leer  that  devoured  her  graceful  form.  His  voice 
rose  above  and  dominated  the  cries  of  his  more 
drunken  fellows. 

"  Not  upon  the  grave  —  not  upon  the  grave!  " 
he  howled  down  their  clamor.  "  This  is  a  festi- 
val. Upon  the  table  for  the  girl !  The  doll  shall 
give  us  a  table  d'hote  ballet,  a  ballet  a  la  nude !  — 
Ach,  charming  fraulein  make  haste  to  disrobe, 
and  prance  your  pretty  toes  among  our  wine- 
glasses, else  I  myself  shall  act  as  your  maid." 

Thorpe,  stunned,  stared  around,  expecting  to 
see  the  other  officers  frown  their  disgust  and  cry 
out  in  protest. .  .Those  who  were  not  sprawled 
over  their  plates  were  grinning  with  delight.  He 
looked  at  Kurt.  The  young  man's  eyes  were 
glazed;  his  flaccid  body  had  sagged  low  in  his 
chair.  Even  as  Thorpe  started  an  appeal,  his 


174  The  Blond  Beast 

friend  slipped  down  and  fell  under  the  table 
in  a  drunken  stupor. 

The  backward  darting  glance  of  Thorpe  showed 
to  him  the  slender  little  Belgian  lady  defiantly 
erect,  with  her  shamed  and  terrified  daughter 
clasped  to  her  bosom.  Over  the  dainty,  down- 
bent  head  of  the  girl  her  dark  eyes  flashed  at 
Von  Pappheim  with  a  scorn  and  loathing  that  had 
risen  above  all  fear. 

"Hun!"  she  screamed  —  "  Blond  Beast!  I 
shall  die  before  I  give  you  permission  to  touch 
my  pure  child  with  your  filthy  paws!  " 

Von  Pappheim 's  Prussian-cut  tow  hair  stood 
up  like  the  bristles  on  the  back  of  a  white  boar. 

"  Die  then,  sow!  "  he  growled. 

His  pistol  was  jerked  out,  aimed  and  fired  with 
machine-like  rapidity.  Mother  aud  daughter 
went  down  together,  still  locked  fast  in  each  oth- 
er Ts  arms.  The  steel-pointed  mauser  bullet  had 
pierced  through  the  girl's  slender  neck  into  the 
mother's  heart.  In  the  momentary  hush  that 
followed  the  shattering  report  of  the  pistol,  the 
murderer's  curse  rang  out  venomously: 

"  Donnerwetter  —  too  low!  A  wine-shot,  nicht? 
I  meant  only  to  shoot  the  old  sow  and  keep  the 
young  one  for  pleasure  —  You  gawking  louts, 
heraus  mit  die  schweine!  " 

As  the  orderlies  sprang  to  clutch  and  drag  out 
the  bodies,  several  officers  drunkenly  began  to 
quarrel  with  Von  Pappheim  for  having  robbed 
them  of  their  chance  at  the  girl. 

"  Pfui!  "  he  snarled  back  at  them.  "  Only 
one  young  pig!  Plenty  more  pretty  girls  across 
the  Meuse,  and  oceans  of  wine.  —  Here,  you 


The  Beast  Rampant  175 

goose-footed  boors,  champagne!  more  cham- 
pagne! To  leave  a  bottle  unbroken  would  be  a 
crime. " 

All  caught  up  the  cry.  Some  began  a  beer- 
song.  The  orgy  broke  again  into  full  swing, 
as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  jar  on  its  coarse 
hilarity. 

Unheeded  even  by  Von  Pappheim,  Thorpe  left 
his  seat  and  groped  his  way  out  of  the  wine- 
reeking,  tobacco-fumed,  blood-stained  place  of 
infamy.  He  was  nauseated  —  stunned.  He  was 
a-tremble  with  shudders  of  horror  and  loathing. 
Never  had  he  imagined  that  war  could  be  so 
maddening,  so  perverting  of  the  good  will  of 
men.  And  this  was  only  a  beginning! 

His  first  impulse  was  to  hand  in  his  Red 
Cross  badges,  ask  for  a  pass,  and  make  for 
the  rear.  He  must  hasten  to  escape  before  being 
swirled  on  into  the  midst  of  the  hideous  mael- 
strom . . .  Then  came  the  thought  of  Lucy.  She 
could  not  so  much  as  have  dreamt  —  she  could 
not  possess  the  vaguest  inkling  of  the  hell-storm 
that  was  about  to  burst  across  the  Meuse.  She 
was  there  with  the  duped  self-entrapped  French. 
What  might  not  happen  to  her  if  she  should  be 
overtaken  and  seized  by  the  war-mad  invaders? 

No  —  he  could  not  run  away  —  or  even  wait 
here  for  the  battle-front  to  rip  and  hack  and 
burn  its  frightful  way  forward  over  the  doomed 
Belgians  and  French.  He  must  advance  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  prepared  to  attempt  a  rescue 
of  the  willful  girl  if  she  were  made  prisoner, 
as  had  been  these  unfortunate  Belgian  ladies. 
Kurt  probably  would  not  be  able  to  leave  his 


176  The  Blond  Beast 

regiment  even  to  inquire  about  her.  But  a  volun- 
teer stretcher-bearer  might  not  be  so  closely 
attached  to  any  one  military  unit.  His  services 
would  be  welcomed  wherever  wounded  Germans 
were  to  be  found. 

The  horror  that  he  had  witnessed  made  sleep 
seem  impossible,  though  the  stretcher  assigned 
to  his  use  in  the  ambulance  was  far  more  com- 
fortable than  most  cots.  His  mind  kept  dwelling 
on  the  sight  of  Von  Pappheim  with  the  half- 
lowered  pistol,  and  those  two  graceful  forms 
crumpled  upon  the  salon  floor  like  a  fragile  rose 
and  a  half-open  bud  crushed  down  together  under 
the  hoof  of  a  wild  boar. 

The  mother  victim  had  spoken  frightful  truth 
when  in  her  brave  scorn  she  branded  Von  Papp- 
heim as  the  Blond  Beast.  Worst  of  all,  the 
murderous  captain  appeared  to  be  no  more  than 
a  leader  in  the  devil's  play  with  which  the 
German  army  was  harrying  the  helpless  inhab- 
itants of  Belgium.  The  spirit  of  the  Blond  Beast, 
of  insane  Nietzsche's  monstrous  Obermann  — 
ruthless,  ferocious,  lustful  —  had  obsessed  the 
wine-inflamed  invaders. 

Thorpe  realized  all  too  clearly  that  it  would 
be  useless  to  accuse  Von  Pappheim  to  General 
von  Hausen.  From  what  he  had  seen,  from 
what  Kurt  had  disclosed,  from  what  the  other 
officers  had  vaunted  of  the  widespread  shooting 
and  stabbing  and  burning,  he  knew  that  in  so 
iron-disciplined  a  machine  as  the  Germany  army, 
such  outrages  were  not  possible  without  the  con- 
nivance of  the  High  Command.  His  first  expla- 
nation of  the  atrocities  had  been  that  they  were 


The  Beast  Rampant  177 

the  consequence  of  looted  wine  cellars.  Yet 
what  German  officer  or  private  would  have  dared 
steal  or  injure  a  pfennig's  worth  of  property  or 
lay  hands  upon  a  single  civilian,  without  the 
sanction  of  his  superiors?  And  the  All-Highest 
was  Majestdt. 

The  thought  that  the  outrages  were  due  to 
cold-blooded  deliberate  war  policy  was  doubly 
dismaying  to  Thorpe.  He  was  forced  to  realize 
the  almost  non-existent  chance  of  appeal  from 
the  ferocious  whims  of  the  Blond  Beast.  His 
own  safety  was  of  small  concern  to  him.  But 
to  stand  any  chance  of  helping  Lucy,  in  the 
event  of  her  capture,  he  must  mask  his  horror 
and  loathing.  He  must  seek  to  make  his  own 
position  secure  —  must  be  content  to  advance 
himself  in  the  esteem  of  Majestdt' s  officers 
against  the  day  when  he  might  need  their 
support. 


FIEE  AND  SWOED 

At  dawn  command  came  for  the  advance.  The 
crossing  of  the  Meuse  had  begun.  Kurt's  regi- 
ment, most  of  whose  officers  were  morose  from 
the  after  effects  of  champagne,  marched  forward 
to  join  in  the  new  attack  on  the  French.  Thorpe's 
last  view  of  the  chateau,  at  sunrise,  showed  him 
a  squad  of  soldiers  loading  the  carefully  boxed 
grand  piano  and  gramophone  into  an  army  trans- 
port. A  married  officer  had  "  requisitioned  "  the 
instruments  to  be  shipped  home  by  railway  to 
his  family. 

The  regiment  came  down  to  the  Meuse  bank 
south  of  where  Lucy  had  brought  over  Thorpe 
and  Elsa  and  Frau  von  Kissel. 

Half  of  Dinant  was  ablaze,  or  sending  Tip 
smoke  from  its  German-fired  dwellings  and  shops 
and  public  buildings.  One  of  the  worst  massacres 
of  the  unfortunate  inhabitants  had  taken  place 
in  this  southern  suburb.  While  the  Saxons  were 
laying  pontoons  to  bridge  the  Meuse,  French 
troops  had  fired  across  the  river.  The  Germans 
claimed  that  the  shooting  was  by  Belgian  franc- 
tireurs.  They  had  seized  eighty  or  more  of  the 
helpless  townsfolk,  shoved  them  against  a  wall, 
and  shot  all  together,  men  and  women  and 
children. 

178 


Fire  and  Sword  179 

Before  that,  midway  down  through  the  town, 
other  families  had  been  lined  up  along  the  river 
front,  as  a  screen  for  the  Germans  against  the 
French  riflemen  on  the  west  bank.  Others  had 
been  murdered  in  batches  and  singly.  A  woman 
left  lying  with  a  broken  leg,  had  burned  to  death 
when  her  home  was  set  on  fire  by  the  Saxons. 
And  the  butchery  and  burning  and  pillaging  was 
still  continuing  on  this  cruel  morning  after  the 
Sunday's  orgy  of  fire  and  blood. 

Thorpe's  ambulance  stopped  some  distance 
back  from  the  river.  While  the  portly  surgeon 
re-dressed  the  arm  of  a  wounded  Saxon,  the 
big  heavy-jowled  brute  told  gloatingly  of  how 
the  franc-tireurs  had  been  and  still  were  being 
executed.  With  his  teeth  clenched  behind  a 
forced  smile,  Thorpe  sought  to  close  his  ears 
against  the  man's  coarse  details  and  the  sight 
of  soldiers  breaking  into  houses  in  the  vicinity. 

One  of  the  pillaging  bands  appeared  close  at 
hand.  They  smashed  the  windows  and  door  of 
a  pretty  little  house  near  the  ambulance,  and 
rushed  in,  yelling  like  fiends.  Half  a  dozen  of 
them  soon  came  out  again,  dragging  a  wounded 
civilian  and  a  woman  who  carried  in  her  arms 
a  little  girl  of  three  or  four  years. 

The  soldiers  stepped  clear  for  elbow  room  to 
use  their  barbarous  saw-edged  bayonets.  The 
man  and  woman  fell  upon  their  knees,  praying 
for  mercy.  Two  of  the  lunging  blades  struck 
the  man  in  the  face.  The  woman  thrust  the  child 
away  to  save  it  from  the  blades  that  plunged 
into  her  bosom.  One  of  them,  in  passing,  gashed 
the  little  girl's  uplifted  arm. 


180  The  Blond  Beast 

Thorpe  sprang  from  the  ambulance  and  flashed 
a  desperate  glance  at  the  surgeon. 

"The  child  —  she  is  hurt!"  he  choked  out. 
"  Come!  " 

The  portly  doctor  stared,  and  then  suddenly 
swung  down  to  run  after  Thorpe.  He  was  barely 
in  time  to  check  a  savage  attack  on  the  American 
by  the  nearest  of  the  blood-mad  soldiers.  Of  the 
others,  one  thin-faced  young  fellow  was  looking 
over  his  shoulder  at  the  little  girl,  with  tears 
rolling  down  his  pale  cheeks.  The  rest  had 
squatted  beside  the  dying  Belgian  to  loot  his 
pockets. 

Thorpe  had  recoiled  before  the  bloody  bayonet 
point  of  his  assailant.  The  surgeon  caught  him 
in  a  protecting  clutch. 

"  Come  back.  You  are  a  friend  of  Excellens. 
You,  in  civilian  clothes  —  To  interfere  is  dan- 
gerous.'* 

Unable  to  speak,  lest  he  should  curse  Majestdt 
and  all  his  Super  race,  Thorpe  pointed  to  the 
little  girl,  who  was  clinging  to  the  skirt  of  her 
dead  mother  and  whimpering  with  pain. 

"  Ach  —  the  child  —  she  is  hurt,"  rumbled  the 
surgeon.  He  heaved  a  deep,  sentimental  sigh, 
and  spoke  to  the  soldier.  "  The  poor  little  one 
suffers,  and  no  one  is  left  to  care  for  it.  Better 
it  should  go  with  the  father  and  mother  — 
nichtf  " 

No  direct  order  was  needed.  The  soldier 
grinned  and  swung  around,  with  his  bayonet 
drawn  back  for  lunging.  Thorpe  could  bear  to 
see  no  more.  But  as  he  faced  away  he  heard 
a  faint  childish  scream.  He  rushed  back  to  the 


Fire  and  Sword  181 

ambulance,  his  face  drenched  with  cold  sweat. 
Only  the  thought  of  Lucy  enabled  him  to  keep 
his  rage  and  horror  from  bursting  out.  His 
pallor  deceived  the  surgeon,  who  patted  him 
reassuringly,  and  drew  a  uniform  coat  from  a 
locker  in  the  ambulance. 

"  So  —  so,  mine  friend,  no  wonder  you  shake. 
That  bayonet,  it  was  a  close  shave,  nichtf  I 
must  make  sure  my  Americanisch  volunteer 
comes  not  to  an  untimely  end.  All  civilians 
would  seem  to  be  suspected  as  spies  or  franc- 
tireurs.  You  will  put  on  this,  my  spare  coat." 

To  don  any  part  of  the  German  uniform 
seemed  to  Thorpe  more  than  he  could  endure. 
But  the  field-green  coat  bore  the  sacred  emblem 
of  the  Red  Cross  —  and  there  was  Lucy  to  be 
considered.  He  yielded  to  the  surgeon's  well- 
meant  insistence.  Though  the  coat  was  ridicu- 
lously full  for  him  about  the  middle,  it  fitted 
across  his  shoulders.  He  looked  dubiously  at 
the  insignia  that  denoted  the  rank  of  its  owner 
as  a  medical  officer. 

"  Isn't  this  worse  than  nothing?  "  he  inquired. 
"  They'll  accuse  me  of  having  murdered  you." 

The  portly  surgeon  pondered,  shook  his  head, 
and  took  out  a  fountain  pen.  The  pass  that 
Thorpe  received  from  him  certified  the  American 
to  be  a  volunteer  Eed  Cross  assistant,  free  to 
come  and  go  in  his  work  as  stretcher-bearer,  and 
entitled  as  a  gentleman  to  the  courtesy  of  all 
officers.  Thorpe  very  carefully  fastened  the  cer- 
tificate in  an  inside  pocket.  He  could  not  afford 
to  take  any  chances. 

Orders  were  at  last  received  for  the  ambulance 


182  The  Blond  Beast 

section  to  follow  the  regiment.  All  the  smaller 
cannon  were  now  across  the  river.  The  instru- 
ments of  death  had  been  given  precedence  over 
the  savers  of  life.  As  Thorpe's  ambulance  rolled 
out  on  the  army  pontoon  bridge,  relief  from 
immediate  contact  with  the  bloody  work  in 
Dinant  enabled  him  to  force  his  thoughts  into 
other  channels. 

As  diversion  from  the  maddening  remembrance 
of  the  little  girl,  he  sought  to  locate  the  positions 
of  the  German  guns  by  their  different  notes.  The 
most  monstrous  of  the  gigantic  field  pieces 
seemed  to  be  still  on  the  east  side  of  the  river, 
hurling  their  nine-  and  twelve-inch  shells  from 
behind  screening  knolls,  high  over  the  stream 
and  the  hills  beyond,  at  the  now-distant  French 
lines.  On  the  west  bank  the  ugly  misshapen 
six-inch  howitzers  were  roaring  away  at  the  same 
living  targets,  with  an  almost  continuous  thunder 
that  drowned  out  the  distant,  lighter  crashing  of 
the  three-inch  guns. 

All  about  the  nearer  howitzers  were  to  be  seen 
the  proofs  of  their  own  and  their  mates  *  destruc- 
tiveness.  Great  trees  shattered  or  mowed  down, 
yawning  raw  pits  in  river  bank  and  hill  sides, 
blasted  houses  —  all  forewarned  Thorpe  of  the 
terribleness  of  modern  shell  fire.  At  that  mo- 
ment, thousands  of  soldiers  were  fighting  in  the 
midst  of  such  a  storm  of  shrapnel  and  high- 
explosive  shells  as  had  worked  this  devastation 
before  him. 

Between  the  howitzers  the  Guard  regiments 
were  hastening  to  the  battle  front  to  back  up 
the  Saxon  corps.  Word  had  been  received  that 


Fire  and  Sword  183 

the  desperately  fighting  French  troops,  out- 
numbered, out-generaled  and  out-gunned,  were 
being  driven  back.  The  men  of  the  Guard 
rushed  forward,  shouting  and  yelling  songs  of 
victory,  every  one  from  general  to  private  aflame 
with  fierce  ardor  to  strike  the  shaken  enemy. 

Thorpe  lacked  the  stimulating  hot-blooded 
enthusiasm  of  those  who  were  to  fight.  Yet,  to 
his  great  surprise,  he  found  himself  quite  with- 
out fear.  As  he  was  borne  forward  towards  the 
battle  he  thought  neither  of  his  danger  nor  of 
his  deliciously  sweet  Elsa,  to  whom  he  might 
never  return  —  for  ahead  of  this  on-sweeping 
gray  deluge  of  the  invaders,  somewhere  before 
or  in  the  midst  of  the  frightful  tidal-wave  of 
death,  was  Lucy  Carew,  his  countrywoman,  his 
dear  old-time  chum. 

Precedence  for  right  of  way  through  the  jam 
of  reserves  and  munition  trains  was  given  to 
the  guns  and  caissons.  But  Thorpe's  ambulance 
managed  to  dodge  around  a  stalled  six-inch 
howitzer  and  crowd  into  line  behind  a  battery  of 
three-inch  pieces  that  was  dashing  forward  at 
full  gallop. 

The  swift  pace  soon  brought  them  within  range 
of  the  French  seventy-fives.  The  screaming 
three-inch  shells  began  to  whizz  from  over  the 
woods  ahead,  to  burst  all  around.  Out  of  the 
white  puffs  pinged  deadly  shrapnel  that  killed 
or  wounded  all  creatures  within  its  cone  of  dis- 
persion and  rattled  on  hard  surfaces  like  hail- 
stones. These  messengers  of  death  were  inter- 
spersed with  high  explosive  shells  that  smashed 
everything  they  struck.  One  of  them  fell 


184  The  Blond  Beast 

between  two  teams  of  the  guns  before  the 
ambulance  and  blew  the  galloping  horses  into 
fragments. 

The  car  skidded  as  it  swerved  through  the  red 
mess,  around  the  abruptly  stopped  cannon. 
Close  ahead  were  other  wrecks  —  disabled  guns, 
exploded  caissons,  ghastly  bits  of  men  and  horses. 
The  French  had  the  exact  range  of  the  road  and 
were  concentrating  on  it  a  fire  intended  to  cut 
off  reserves  and  munitions  from  the  German 
front  lines.  The  shelling  had  already  so  shat- 
tered the  advancing  column  and  pitted  the  once- 
perfect  macadam  roadway  with  shell-holes  that 
horse,  foot  and  artillery  were  all  alike  swinging 
out  on  either  side  to  labor  forward  through  the 
grain  fields.  Signal  Corps  men  were  stringing  a 
new  field  telephone  line  on  slender,  jointed  poles. 

With  startling  abruptness  the  bombardment 
ceased.  The  portly  surgeon  chuckled  and  pointed 
skyward  to  where  a  great  sparrow-hawk  form 
was  soaring  in  vulturine  circles. 

"  The  taubes  —  they  are  signalling  the  range 
to  our  howitzers.  Our  bombardment  is  driving 
the  little  French  guns  back.  So  it  has  been 
from  the  start  —  back,  back,  back  go  the  red- 
legged  apes,  their  guns  out-ranged  by  our  lovely 
Busy  Berthas,  and  their  infantry  running  before 
our  brave  heroes." 

Yet  the  French  guns,  even  though  driven  back, 
had  not  been  silenced.  The  ambulance,  dashing 
past  the  half-stalled  German  guns  and  columns 
of  breathless  infantrymen,  quickly  came  up 
behind  the  line  of  bursting  shells  that  marked 
the  advanced  German  position.  On  the  way 


Fire  and  Sword  185 

Thorpe  had  seen  only  a  few  score  of  German 
casualties  in  or  near  the  road  and  a  far  less 
number  of  dead  French  soldiers.  But  at  this 
point  several  hundred  French  had  made  a  stub- 
born stand  in  half-dug  trenches.  They  had  been 
overwhelmed  —  at  a  cost  that  staggered  Thorpe 
when  he  saw  the  windrows  of  dead  and  wounded 
Germans. 

The  ambulance  stopped,  and  a  dressing  station, 
marked  with  Red  Cross  flags,  was  set  up  behind 
the  shattered  wall  of  a  shell-blasted  farm  house. 
Thorpe's  first  share  in  a  battle  was  more  fear- 
ful than  if  he  had  stood  with  a  rifle  in  the 
foremost  ranks  of  the  fighters.  While  ahead, 
guns  roared  and  shells  burst  in  a  ceaseless  jar- 
ring din,  he  hurried  back  and  forth  with  his 
German  stretcher-bearer  mate,  bringing  into  the 
dressing  station  the  maimed  and  shattered 
wrecks  of  humanity  that  littered  the  blood-soaked 
ground. 

Thorpe  felt  no  little  surprise  when  he  noticed 
the  absence  of  any  French  wounded.  The  dead 
wearers  of  blue  and  red  almost  equaled  the 
total  German  casualties  of  both  dead  and  injured. 
The  frightful  truth  that  the  French  wounded 
had  all  been  bayoneted  did  not  occur  to  him  at 
the  time.  He  supposed  that  the  surviving  French 
troops  had  been  able  to  retreat  with  all  their 
injured.  There  was  little  time  for  speculations 
as  he  jogged  from  the  dressing  station  and  back 
with  case  after  case. 

The  small  number  of  rifle  wounds  was  another 
thing  that  surprised  Thorpe.  Most  of  the  injured 
had  been  torn  by  shrapnel  or  shell  fragments,  or 


186  The  Blond  Beast 

pierced  by  bayonets.  Some  died  on  the  stretch- 
ers, others  on  the  operating  table  or  after  ampu- 
tations. The  dead  were  unceremoniously  pitched 
aside  to  make  way  for  the  living. 

As  the  morning  advanced  the  heat  became 
sweltering.  Flies  buzzed  about  the  dressing  sta- 
tion. Back-drifting  acrid  powder  fumes,  smoke 
from  the  smouldering  farm  house  ruins,  the  odors 
of  sweat  and  blood,  the  shrieks  and  moans  of 
the  injured  —  all  tended  to  sicken  and  unnerve 
Thorpe.  Yet  he  toiled  on,  braced  by  the  example 
of  the  surgeon. 

Though  brutal  and  callous  in  his  talk,  the 
portly  medical-major  was  proving  himself  quite 
efficient  for  the  task  in  hand.  Bare-armed, 
spattered  with  crimson,  puffing  and  sweating,  he 
worked  with  machine-like  precision,  bandaging 
and  suturing,  probing  for  bullets  and  shell  frag- 
ments, slashing  off  shattered  limbs  that  required 
immediate  amputation. 

"  Ach!  a  pretty  one  you  now  bring  me,  Herr 
Thorpe,"  he  exclaimed  over  a  corporal  whose 
head  had  been  laid  open  by  a  piece  of  shell. 
"  Beautiful  case  of  brain  exposure.  In  Berlin 
I  could  save  him  —  No  time  to  waste  here.  Take 
him  off  the  table... Next  case,  quick.  Eimmel! 
No  end  of  work  —  all  this  cannon-fodder,  and 
more  to  come.  Those  French  shells  are  the 
devil . . .  Hans,  crumble  up  cheese  in  wine  for  me 
to  drink.  I  cannot  stop  to  eat." 

Towards  noon  the  rush  slackened.  Thorpe 
dropped  panting  on  the  cannon-jarred  ground, 
in  the  shade  of  a  shell-scarred  pear  tree.  His 
stretcher-mate  methodically  opened  the  cowhide 


Fire  and  Sword  187 

knapsacks  of  the  nearest  dead  Germans  until 
he  found  two  bottles  of  champagne.  Thorpe  dis- 
covered that  he  was  ravenously  hungry.  He 
gorged  on  the  "  iron  rations  "  of  the  dead  men, 
washing  down  the  food  with  champagne.  Though 
tepid  from  the  mid-day  heat,  the  wine  supple- 
mented the  food  in  reviving  his  strength  and 
clearing  his  mind  of  the  daze  into  which  it  had 
been  shocked  by  the  incessant  cannonading  and 
contact  with  so  much  suffering.  He  hastened 
to  the  dressing  station,  where  the  surgeon  still 
labored  and  sweated  over  the  red  work  of  mercy. 

"  May  I  go  to  the  front?  "  he  requested.  "  I 
am  anxious  to  see  if  all  is  right  with  my  friend 
Lieutenant  von  Kissel." 

"  Ja,"  panted  the  surgeon.  "  You  have  done 
good  work.  Go.  We  will  soon  move  forward  to 
a  new  station." 

Thorpe  promptly  swung  away  up  the  wooded 
slope  where  columns  of  reinforcements  were  rush- 
ing to  the  front  with  the  swift,  skating  route- 
step  of  German  infantrymen.  From  the  fact  that 
the  surf  of  bursting  French  shells  had  receded, 
he  surmised  that  the  invaders  had  overwhelmed 
or  hurled  back  the  defenders.  He  came  to  a 
field  telephone  and  followed  the  line  at  a  jog 
trot.  On  the  way  he  caught  up  a  dead  German's 
spiked  helmet  of  lacquered  leather.  It  fitted 
well,  was  light,  and  made  a  good  sunshade.  His 
own  soft  hat  he  crammed  into  a  pocket  of  the 
surgeon's  coat. 

The  thin-wired  slender-poled  telephone  line 
led  over  a  long  rise,  down  across  a  hollow,  and 
up  a  higher  undulation,  or  ridge,  to  a  beautiful 


188  The  Blond  Beast 

old  Gothic  church.  Bed  Cross  flags  proclaimed 
it  to  be  occupied  as  a  hospital.  But  shattered 
spires  and  gaping  shell  holes  in  the  roof  told 
that  the  flag  of  mercy  had  not  been  respected  by 
the  German  artillery.  Not  so  the  French  shells 
that  swept  the  ridge  on  either  side.  None  were 
bursting  close  to  the  church. 

A  group  of  mounted  officers  were  peering  at 
the  country  beyond  from  behind  a  shell-tattered 
hedge  that  bounded  the  ancient  cemetery  at  the 
right  end  of  the  church.  From  the  number  of 
field  telephone  lines  that  led  up  to  them  Thorpe 
guessed  that  he  was  approaching  the  temporary 
field  headquarters  of  the  Guard  commander. 
He  dropped  the  helmet,  put  on  his  own  hat,  and 
advanced  towards  the  cemetery. 

While  he  was  yet  several  yards  away,  a  young 
staff  officer  rode  at  him,  sabre  in  hand,  and 
reined  up  across  his  path,  to  stare  suspiciously 
at  his  motley  attire  and  arrogantly  demand  that 
he  account  for  himself.  Thorpe  showed  the  pass 
given  him  by  his  surgeon,  and  explained  that 
the  High  Commander,  General  von  Hausen,  had 
accepted  his  services  as  a  volunteer.  When  he 
added  that  he  had  permission  to  hunt  up  his 
friend  Lieutenant  von  Kissel,  the  young  aristo- 
crat unbent  from  his  hauteur. 

"  Pardon  for  requesting  you  to  go  around 
the  other  way,  Herr  Thorpe.  The  battle  is  now 
at  its  height.  Baron  von  Plattenberg  is  occu- 
pied with  reports  and  orders.  At  another  time 
he  would  be  pleased  to  receive  you  as  a  friend 
of  the  High  Commander.  Lieutenant  von  Kis- 
sel's regiment  has  not  yet  gone  into  action.  You 


Fire  and  Sword  189 

will  find  it  not  far  along  the  ridge  to  the  left." 

Thorpe  nodded,  and  jogged  off  towards  the  far 
end  of  the  church.  His  view  was  screened  by 
foliage  until  he  came  around  to  the  front  corner 
of  the  church.  He  emerged  through  the  shat- 
tered archway  of  a  flying  buttress  into  full  view 
of  the  battle  that  was  outspread  on  the  slope 
of  the  hill  and  below  on  the  wide  stretch  of 
harvest  fields  and  undulating  woodlands. 

Close  in  front  of  the  church,  beyond  the  portal, 
stood  a  big  motor  car  with  polished  copper-red 
body.  But  Thorpe  did  not  see  it.  His  gaze  was 
following  along  the  ridge  crest  to  the  left,  where 
an  orchard  was  so  planted  that  he  could  look 
between  the  wide-spaced  rows. 

A  little  way  down  the  open  rear  slope  were 
close-set  batteries  of  German  light  guns,  all  in 
full  action.  Before  them,  on  the  top  and  the 
upper  front  incline  of  the  ridge,  many  lines  of 
Germans  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  as  if  on 
parade,  masked  from  the  French  by  the  fruit 
trees.  Down  at  the  foot  of  the  slope  other  lines 
crouched  along  the  edge  of  the  trampled  wheat 
fields. 

No  less  furiously  than  the  artillery,  the  regi- 
ments of  infantry  were  blazing  away  with  rifles 
and  machine-guns  at  invisible  marks  somewhere 
out  in  the  midst  of  the  uncut  harvest.  The 
French  guns  undoubtedly  were  far  back  over 
the  next  undulation;  but  Thorpe  was  astonished 
at  his  inability  to  see  the  conspicuous  horizon- 
blue  coats  and  red  pantaloons  of  the  French 
troops  out  in  the  no  less  vivid  contrasting  golden 
yellow  of  the  grain.  He  could  only  wonder.  To 


190  The  Blond  Beast 

reflect  or  reason  was  impossible.  The  staccato 
clatter  of  the  machine-guns,  the  irregular  yet 
continuous  bursts  of  rifle  fire,  the  cannon  con- 
cussions, the  crash  of  the  French  shells  —  all 
combined  in  a  deafening,  maddening,  infernal 
cacophony.  Even  more  soul-shaking  were  the 
horrible  tearing  siren  screeches  and  thunderous 
explosions  of  the  six-,  nine-  and  twelve-inch  shells 
which  came  hurtling  over  at  the  French  from 
miles  behind  the  German  front. 

As  Thorpe  stood  transfixed,  staring  down 
aslant  the  ridge,  one  of  the  biggest  shells  struck 
a  farm  house  in  the  midst  of  the  fields.  The 
detonation  was  so  terrific  that  the  solid  brick 
walls  dissolved  into  an  immense  puffball  of  red 
dust  and  smoke,  out  of  whose  up-shooting  expanse 
flared  still  higher  a  gush  of  flaming  gases.  On 
the  open  ground  others  of  the  monstrous  missiles 
plunged  deep  into  the  soft  earth  and  blasted 
craters  from  seven  to  ten  yards  across.  Dust 
was  hurled  aloft  hundreds  of  feet,  along  with 
clouds  of  greasy  black  smoke  as  large  as  a  city 
block. 

Thorpe  marveled  how  any  troops  could  with- 
stand so  awful  a  bombardment.  That  the  French 
batteries  were  affected  soon  appeared  certain  to 
him.  Their  fire  was  rapidly  slackening.  This 
must  have  been  the  moment  for  which  the  com- 
mander of  the  Guard  had  been  waiting.  The 
many  lines  of  infantrymen  on  the  upper  part  of 
the  ridge  massed  in  close  formation  and  heaved 
forward  down  the  slope  with  the  slow  but  solid 
momentum  of  a  starting  landslide. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
HELL 

On  the  upper  slope  the  dense  yet  orderly  mass 
of  the  Guard  regiments  was  still  more  or  less 
screened  from  the  French  by  the  fruit  trees. 

First  to  burst  into  the  open  grain  fields  was 
a  detachment  of  hussars  that  spurred  ahead  of 
the  hidden  left  front  of  the  invaders.  Though 
less  than  a  quarter  mile  away,  Thorpe  could 
not  have  seen  the  wild  riders  had  they  been 
unmounted,  so  perfectly  did  the  field  gray  of  the 
German  uniform  merge  into  the  landscape.  But 
his  eye  was  caught  by  the  glitter  of  steel  lance- 
tips  and  the  dark  mass  of  the  galloping  horses. 

The  French  had  already  sighted  the  charging 
cavalry.  Even  as  Thorpe  looked,  the  air  before 
and  above  the  hussars  filled  with  twinkling 
flashes,  each  followed  by  a  white  cottony  puff 
of  smoke  that  told  of  a  bursting  shrapnel  shell. 
All  the  seemingly  half-silenced  batteries  of 
French  seventy-fives  appeared  to  be  concentrat- 
ing their  fire  on  the  horsemen. 

The  effect  was  frightful.  A  hail  of  deadly 
shrapnel  struck  down  men  and  horses  by  scores 
and  hundreds;  high  explosive  shells  blew  them 
into  fragments.  Before  the  charge  could  reach 
the  first  French  line,  the  flying  mass  of  horse- 

191 


192  The  Blond  Beast 

v  men  was  shattered,  blasted,  almost  annihilated. 
The  few  survivors  broke  and  fled  in  utter  rout. 

But  the  seconds  gained  by  the  fatal  charge 
gave  the  massed  infantry  time  to  sweep  down 
out  of  the  trees.  They  advanced  into  the  open 
fields  at  their  swift,  skating  route-step,  singing, 
or  rather,  yelling  their  war  songs.  The  destruc- 
tion of  the  hussars  had  filled  Thorpe  with  awed 
wonderment  over  the  terrific  effectiveness  of  the 
French  shell-fire.  He  thought  he  now  saw  the 
answer  in  this  magnificent  massed  array  of 
bayonet-bristling  Guards  that  surged  forward 
with  the  momentum  of  a  tidal  wave,  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  rank  upon  rank,  regiment  in  perfect 
line  with  regiment. 

"  The  steam-roller!  "  he  shouted,  torn  between 
an  irresistible  wild  exultation  over  the  marvelous 
living  war-machine  and  dismay  for  the  plucky 
French,  whom  the  juggernaut  was  about  to  smash 
down  and  crush  into  the  earth.  "  Good-bye,  la 
belle  France!  " 

Above  the  near  end  of  the  German  tidal  wave, 
against  the  dull  blue  of  the  powder-hazed  sky, 
flashed  a  lightning-star,  instantly  followed  by 
the  cottony  puff  of  the  burst  shell  —  then  other 
white  flash-stabs  and  puffs  that  increased  with 
frightful  rapidity  to  a  storm  of  shell  fire.  Before 
the  annihilation  of  the  hussars  Thorpe  and  the 
Prussians  alike  had  thought  the  French  seventy- 
fives  half  destroyed.  Now  it  was  seen  that  the 
batteries  had  merely  been  shifting  from  the 
positions  spotted  by  the  vulturine  German  aero- 
planes. Their  renewed  shelling  was  far  more 
violent  than  any  that  had  gone  before. 


Hell  193 

All  along  that  forward-sweeping  broad  gray 
mass  of  the  Guards,  sudden  holes  and  gaps 
began  to  appear.  High  explosive  shells  burst 
in  the  midst  of  the  dense  ranks,  rending  and 
maiming  all  around,  or  plunged  into  the  ground 
to  belch  up  in  a  skyward  eruption  of  smoke  and 
dirt  and  dismembered  bodies.  Less  frightful  in 
appearance,  yet  still  more  effective,  the  scream- 
ing, pinging  shrapnel  hailed  down  into  the  faces 
of  the  attackers  with  deadly  precision.  Every 
moment  saw  hundreds  of  Prussians  fall,  dead 
or  wounded.  But  the  ranks  closed  up  the  gaps 
as  fast  as  they  were  torn  open,  and  marched  on 
without  the  slightest  faltering.  The  iron-disci- 
plined military  machine  was  going  forward  in 
the  face  of  destruction  with  more  than  machine- 
like  reliability.  Every  private,  cogged  to  his 
fellows  by  years  of  drilling,  was  an  unthinking 
automaton,  blindly  obedient  to  his  superiors  and 
now  doubly  driven  by  a  frenzy  of  fear  and  hate. 

Thorpe  vaguely  became  aware  of  a  voice  cry- 
ing in  his  ear  —  a  woman's  voice  that  quavered 
with  pity  and  horror :  '  *  Lan !  Lan !  —  Oh-h ! 
God  help  them!  God  help  them!  " 

He  wrenched  his  dread-fascinated  eyes  away 
from  the  slaughter.  So  close  at  his  side  that 
her  shuddering  shoulder  pressed  against  his 
elbow,  stood  a  girlish  figure  in  white  linen  dress 
and  white  coif  marked  over  the  forehead  with 
the  emblem  of  the  Red  Cross. 

' '  Lucy !  "  he  cried. 

His  arm  clutched  about  her  shoulders.  He 
swung  his  body  around  between  her  and  the 
battle. 


194  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Go  back  —  quick!  "  he  shouted  above  the 
infernal  din.  "  If  one  of  those  damnable  shells 
should  come  this  way!  " 

A  wave  of  rose  flooded  into  her  white  cheeks. 
The  compassion-drooped  corners  of  her  lips 
curved  upwards.  Her  lovely  eyes,  darkened 
and  dilated  with  horror,  relaxed  from  their  fixed 
stare  and  softened  into  a  glow  of  tender  warmth. 

* '  Oh,  Lan,  you  were  afraid  for  me !  You  came 
back...  " 

* '  You  —  you  ought  to  be  spanked !  "  he  scolded 
—  * '  staying  here  in  this  fighting  —  Good  God ! 
Those  shells  —  Come  away!  If  one  should  fly 
across  here!  " 

Hot  scorn  flashed  from  the  girl's  eyes. 

"  No  fear  of  that.  Trust  the  base,  degenerate 
French  to  shoot  wide  of  us.  It's  only  the  noble 
German  Supermen  who  bombard  hospitals. 
Look!  " 

She  pointed  to  the  jagged  hole  in  the  red- 
stained  bosom  of  her  nurse's  costume. 

"  The  shell  that  crashed  through  the  rose  win- 
dow and  burst  midway  of  the  nave  killed  several 
of  our  wounded  and  struck  down  Sister  Cecile. 
This  was  her  dying  gift  to  me.  The  helpers  are 
all  too  few.  Wearing  her  dress,  I  could  not 
desert  even  if  I  wished." 

Thorpe  shuddered.  He  had  turned  his  head 
to  stare  down  at  the  massive  Prussian  battle 
line,  now  at  the  edge  of  the  grain  fields.  Its 
dense  ranks  had  perceptibly  thinned.  Behind 
them,  all  the  slope  was  littered  with  dead  and 
wounded.  Yet  they  still  drove  forward,  un- 
checked, at  the  same  swift,  sliding  march  step. 


HeU  195 

In  their  furious  eagerness  to  close  with  their 
enemies  the  battle-maddened  men  were  yelling 
like  view  hounds.  Out  of  the  woods  on  the  far 
side  of  the  church,  other  regiments  of  infantry 
and  several  bodies  of  cavalry  had  streamed  into 
the  fields  to  strike  across  at  the  French  flank. 

"  Cannon  -  fodder  —  more  cannon  -  fodder!  " 
groaned  Thorpe. 

But  the  remembrance  of  his  friend  down  in 
that  hell  of  flying  lead  and  steel  goaded  him 
back  to  self-control. 

"  Loo,  I'm  also  in  the  service.  The  surgeon 
loaned  me  his  coat.  If  you're  quite  sure  you're 
safe  here  —  Kurt  is  there,  with  his  regiment." 

Lucy  clutched  at  his  arm.  "  No,  Lan!  no! 
You're  not  —  you  cannot  go!  You're  not  one 
of  their  soldiers!  " 

Thorpe  stared.  "  I  thought  you  cared  for 
him. .  .Besides,  he's  my  friend." 

The  girl  stepped  back  and  burst  into  a  shrill 
peal  of  hysterical  laughter. 

1  *  Yes,  yes  —  your  friend  —  and  Elsa  's  brother ! 
Go . . .  No,  no !  come  back !  I  didn  't  mean  it !  — 
Oh,  Lan,  dear  Lan!  You'll  be  killed!  I  can't 
bear  it!  Come  back!  " 

But  Thorpe  was  already  sprinting  down  the 
slope,  deafened  to  her  screams  by  the  thunderous 
clashing  uproar  of  the  guns.  The  frightfully 
punished  yet  steadily  advancing  gray  billow  of 
infantry  was  extending  its  right  end  to  connect 
with  the  obliquely  charging  regiments  of  the 
Guard  Corps'  right  wing.  Thorpe  ran  straight 
down  the  road  from  the  church  towards  the  point 
where  he  thought  the  Prussian  battle  line  would 


196  The  Blond  Beast 

be  linked  together  for  the  concerted  onslaught. 

Until  near  the  foot  of  the  incline  the  road 
was  well  off  to  the  side  of  that  ghastly  spread 
of  wrecked  humanity  that  littered  the  wake  of 
the  gray  battle  wave.  As  Thorpe  ran  down 
it  he  glimpsed,  over  the  heads  of  the  Guards,  a 
ragged  row  of  black  dots  that  vanished  almost 
as  soon  as  seen.  The  attackers  had  flushed  the 
first  line  of  their  enemies.  Maddened  by  their 
fearful  losses,  all  they  needed  to  infuriate  them 
beyond  restraint  was  a  single  look  at  the  dark 
faces  and  mustard-colored  tunics  of  the  sol- 
diers who  leaped  up  out  of  the  yellow  grain  and 
fled.  In  a  twinkling  their  shell-mangled  yet  still 
rigid  ranks  plunged  forward  and  dissolved  into 
a  raging,  rushing  mob . . .  Over  and  above  them 
still  burst  the  hell-storm  of  the  French  seventy- 
fives,  only  partly  checked  by  the  far  more 
spectacular  but  blindly  aimed  bombardment  of 
the  heavier  German  shells. 

Midway  down  to  the  fields  Thorpe  abruptly 
veered  to  the  left,  athwart  the  death-struck  path 
of  the  Guards.  He  dashed  along  the  slope,  leap- 
ing over  the  dead  and  dodging  around  the 
wounded,  many  of  whom  cried  out  to  him  or  held 
up  beseeching  arms.  At  last  he  saw  men  who 
bore  the  insignia  of  Kurt 's  regiment.  He  checked 
his  headlong  rush  and  began  to  dart  from 
wounded  man  to  wounded  man,  giving  first-aid 
to  those  who  could  not  help  themselves  and 
shouting  inquiries  for  Kurt. 

Within  a  few  moments  he  came  upon  a  mor- 
tally injured  sergeant,  who  gasped  that  Herr 
Lieutenant  von  Kissel  had  been  ahead  of  him. 


Hell  197 

Thorpe  eased  the  position  of  the  dying  man,  and 
bounded  away,  to  zigzag  down  the  blood-path 
of  Kurt's  company  and  the  companies  that  had 
marched  before  and  behind  it.  At  first  the 
search  was  simple.  If  Kurt  had  been  struck 
down,  there  was  no  chance  of  missing  him,  unless 
his  body  had  been  blown  to  bits  or  mangled 
beyond  recognition,  as  were  all  too  many  of  the 
red  grist  of  cannon-fodder. 

But  out  on  the  flat-trampled  shell-pitted  grain 
fields  the  end  of  the  main  attacking  force  had 
stretched  to  the  right  to  link  with  the  supporting 
wing.  Thorpe  could  not  tell  whether  Kurt's  com- 
pany had  taken  part  in  this  flank  movement. 
He  dashed  straight  ahead,  leaping  the  shell  holes 
of  the  French  seventy-fives.  Deaf  to  the  piteous 
cries  of  the  wounded  and  to  the  big  howitzer 
shells  that  flew  close  overhead,  preceded  by  their 
hideous  fiendish  screeches,  he  sprinted  after  the 
frenzied  mob  that  was  still  charging  on  towards 
the  hidden  French. 

Out  past  the  middle  of  the  first  field  he  brought 
up  barely  in  time  on  the  rim  of  a  yawning  pit, 
the  crater  of  a  twelve-inch  shell.  At  the  bottom 
were  lying  several  dead  soldiers,  for  the  most 
part  Prussians.  The  rest  were  swarthy  faced 
men  in  mustard-colored  tunics,  baggy  trousers 
and  fezzes.  In  a  flash  Thorpe  understood  why 
he  had  been  unable  to  see  the  French.  The  forces 
opposing  the  Guard  were  French  Colonial  troops, 
Moroccans  or  Algerians.  Even  from  a  distance 
of  a  few  yards  their  uniforms  must  have  been 
invisible  in  the  midst  of  the  ripe  yellow  grain. 

A  sudden  new  note  in  the  roar  and  clash  and 


198  The  Blond  Beast 

clamor  ahead  hrought  Thorpe's  gaze  up  out  of 
the  pit.  Other  than  off  on  the  far  right  flank 
the  French  batteries  had  abruptly  ceased  their 
terrific  fire.  Yet  the  Prussian  battle  wave  was 
no  longer  surging  forward.  It  seemed  to  have 
dashed  against  a  solid  reef.  Its  already  shell- 
riddled  formless  mass  was  more  than  checked. 
Instead  of  driving  on  over  the  obstruction,  it 
was  beginning  to  ebb  back.  In  the  thick  of  the 
gray  swirl  appeared  dots  and  streaks  and  patches 
of  mustard  yellow. 

At  the  astounding  sight  Thorpe's  mouth  gaped 
half  open  —  and  thereby  saved  his  eardrums. 
An  unusually  vicious,  zipping,  rending  shell- 
screech  ended  in  the  tremendous  thud  of  a  huge 
projectile  a  little  way  behind  him.  The  impact 
crumbled  the  loose  dirt  under  his  feet,  and  the 
air  gust  of  the  shell  toppled  him  forward.  In 
the  same  instant  a  stupendous  cataclysm,  that 
was  at  the  same  time  earthquake,  cyclone  and 
volcanic  eruption,  shattered  the  whole  universe 
back  into  Primal  Chaos . . . 

Dimly  and  as  it  were  through  the  Night  of 
Ages,  Thorpe  groped  his  way  out  of  the  black- 
ness to  the  garish  light  —  of  hell.  All  about  the 
rim  of  his  particular  hell-hole,  fiends  were  howl- 
ing and  shrieking,  blaspheming  and  tearing  each 
other  to  pieces  in  a  devilish  saturnalia.  Satan 
himself  —  tall,  eagle-nosed,  malignant-eyed,  fiery- 
faced,  head  covered  with  the  whitish  flames  of 
brimstone  —  was  wielding  a  bar  of  lightning... 

Thorpe  tried  to  move,  and  found  himself  help- 
less. The  shock  of  the  terrific  explosion  that  had 
flung  him  down  into  the  shell  hole  atop  the  dead 


Hell  199 

Prussians  and  Algerians,  seemed  also  to  have 
paralyzed  him.  But  the  daze  that  obscured  his 
mind  and  his  eyes  was  fast  clearing.  Satan 
transformed  himself  into  the  unhelmeted,  sweat- 
ing, disheveled  figure  of  Count  von  Pappheim. 
He  was  beating  the  backs  of  his  retreating  sol- 
diers with  the  flat  of  his  sword.  Thorpe  did 
not  wonder  that  the  Prussians  had  been  hurled 
back  and  were  still  giving  ground.  The  Algerians 
were  flinging  themselves  at  their  enemies  like 
mad  dervishes,  eager  to  die  fighting.  The  play 
of  their  knives  and  bayonets  was  appalling. 

Von  Pappheim 's  squad  would  have  been  put 
to  rout  and  slaughtered  like  sheep  had  he  not 
interlarded  his  sword  pounding  with  bursts  of 
coolly  aimed  pistol  shots.  Yet  for  all  the  deadly 
precision  with  which  he  struck  down  the  swarthy 
assailants,  others  came  charging  from  the  front 
and  side  like  enraged  panthers. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  shell  crater  the 
half  demoralized  Guards  had  already  been  driven 
back.  Thorpe  glanced  again  at  Von  Pappheim. 
The  captain  had  bent  over  to  reload  his  auto- 
matic. A  flurried  private  jerked  his  gun  back 
to  shorten  it  for  a  bayonet  thmst  at  the  Turco 
who  was  stabbing  a  sergeant  close  before  him. 
The  butt  struck  the  front  of  Von  Pappheim 's 
helmetless  head.  He  dropped  like  a  steer  under 
the  sledge.  A  moment  later  his  lax  body  was 
under  the  feet  of  the  charging  Turco  s. 

Unbraced  by  the  fall  of  their  officer,  the  Prus- 
sians reeled  rearwards  beyond  the  constricted 
limit  of  Thorpe's  vision.  Madly  the  battle- 
crazed  Turcos  pressed  forward.  But  then  a 


200  The  Blond  Beast 

clear-toned  rallying  cry  rolled  out  above  the 
yells  of  the  victors: 

"  Vorwdrts!  vorwdrts!    Hurrah! ' 

Forward  again  into  the  scope  of  Thorpe's 
vision  spumed  a  rush  of  frenzied  Guards,  whose 
impact  hurled  back  the  Turcos  and  drove  a  dent 
several  yards  deep  into  their  ranks.  At  the  head 
of  the  counter-charge  Kurt  von  Kissel  was  fight- 
ing the  fierce  Algerians  with  a  cool-headed  valor 
and  skill  that  more  than  offset  their  fury.  He 
parried  their  slashing  knives  and  stabbing  bay- 
onets with  his  sword  and  struck  back  with  the 
deadly  thrusts  of  a  born  fencer,  while  in  the 
brief  moments  between  combats  his  service  pistol 
dropped  Turco  after  Turco. 

At  sight  of  his  friend  —  Elsa's  brother  —  fight- 
ing so  valiantly  against  odds,  something  within 
Thorpe  seemed  to  snap.  The  paralysis  of  shell 
shock  that  had  benumbed  his  motor  nerves  and 
held  him  helpless  gave  way  before  a  tremendous 
impulse  of  will  and  desire.  He  bounded  to  his 
feet  and  scrambled  up  the  side  of  the  pit. 

Two  of  the  men  in  the  rear  rank  of  Kurt's 
platoon  were  lifting  the  half  revived  Von  Papp- 
heim.  Thorpe  caught  hold  of  the  captain-count 
and  sent  the  men  jumping  to  meet  the  flank 
attack  of  the  Turcos  who  had  rushed  around 
from  the  far  side  of  the  shell  crater.  While  he 
supported  the  tottering  officer,  the  platoon  fought 
its  way  back  to  the  general  line  of  retreat. 


SWORD  AGAINST  CROSS 

Though  reeling  and  continually  beaten  back 
all  along  the  line  by  the  fury  of  the  Turcos,  the 
iron  discipline  of  the  Guards  saved  them  from 
rout.  They  fought  as  they  retreated,  and  every 
break  in  their  ranks  was  closed  by  a  quick 
rally.  Along  the  rear,  officers  shot  down  with 
their  pistols  the  few  skulkers  who  attempted 
flight. 

For  a  hundred  paces  or  more  Thorpe  hurried 
his  staggering  half-dazed  charge  back  clear  of 
the  fighting.  The  rapid  movement  must  have 
cleared  Von  Pappheim  's  head.  He  stared  angrily 
at  his  rescuer,  thrust  himself  free,  and  faced 
about  to  rejoin  the  line.  Left  empty  handed, 
Thorpe  first  made  certain  that  Kurt  was  now 
behind  the  front  ranks  and  so  fairly  safe.  He 
then  swung  up  on  his  shoulder  a  boyish  young 
Prussian  from  among  the  helpless  wounded,  over 
whom  the  combatants  were  about  to  trample. 

After  the  cessation  in  the  fire  of  the  French 
seventy-fives,  when  the  Algerians  counter- 
charged, they  had  burst  out  again  in  a  hot 
shelling  that  sought  to  locate  and  silence  the 
German  three-inch  guns.  The  latter,  seconded 
by  the  distant  howitzers,  returned  the  compli- 

201 


202  The  Blond  Beast 

ment.  Neither  side  could  shell  the  enemy  infantry 
without  danger  of  injuring  its  own.  From  the 
moment  the  bayonet  wielders  interlocked,  they 
had  been  left  to  fight  out  their  deadly  struggle 
with  cold  steel.  But  as  Thorpe  plodded  up 
the  slope  to  the  old  church  with  his  burden,  he 
saw  machine-gun  squads  hidden  behind  coppices. 
A  change  was  toward. 

With  radiant  relief  beaming  in  her  green  eyes, 
Lucy  ran  out  to  meet  Thorpe  and  steady  his 
tottering  steps  as  he  bore  the  wounded  boy  into 
the  church.  Coming  straight  from  the  battle-hell 
of  hate  and  strife,  what  Thorpe  saw  under  the 
shell-riddled  roof  of  the  House  of  God  seemed 
a  miracle.  His  own  portly  German  surgeon- 
major  was  toiling  side  by  side  with  a  slender 
little  French  surgeon  and  several  Sisters  of 
Charity.  They  were  straightening  out  the  jumbre 
of  Prussian  casualties  that  hurried  ambulance 
men  had  dumped  and  still  were  dumping  helter- 
skelter  among  the  rows  of  French  wounded  on 
the  straw-strewn  floor  of  the  church.  The  whole 
interior  reeked  with  the  sickening  dank  odors 
of  sweat  and  fresh  blood  and  disinfectants.  A 
black-robed  Belgian  priest  was  distributing  quan- 
tities of  medicines  from  beside  the  altar.  Above 
him  the  bandage-hung  image  of  Our  Lady  of 
Sorrows  gazed  down  with  pensive  compassion 
upon  the  slashed  and  mangled  victims. 

But  now  the  shrieks  within  the  extemporized 
hospital  were  drowned  in  the  ferocious  clamor 
of  the  up-driving  battle  line.  Above  the  heavy 
booming  thunder  of  the  bombardment  rose  the 
piercing  yells  of  the  Turcos,  the  deeper  shouts 


Sword  Against  Cross  203 

of  the  Germans,  the  clash  of  steel  on  steel.  Then, 
suddenly,  above  all  else,  crashed  the  snappy, 
clacking  rattle  of  machine-guns. 

As  Thorpe  hurried  to  the  portal  Lucy  darted 
ahead  of  him  and  barred  his  exit  with  out- 
stretched entreating  arms.  Over  her  white-clad 
head  he  saw  the  Prussians  still  backing  up  the 
slope.  The  moment  their  ranks  had  cleared  the 
machine-guns,  an  enfilading  fire  had  been  opened 
on  the  Turcos,  the  gunners  pouring  their  torrents 
of  bullets  straight  down  the  lines,  regardless  of 
out-jutting  bends  and  wedges  of  their  own 
soldiers. 

The  fusillade  stopped  as  abruptly  as  it  had 
burst  out.  Turcos  had  rushed  the  machine-gun 
squads.  Though  the  brief  cross-fire  had  been 
very  deadly,  the  fierce  Algerians  who  survived 
bounded  over  the  silenced  machine-guns  and  flung 
themselves  at  their  foes  even  more  furiously 
than  before. 

"  Les  Nesses!  les  blesses!  "  cried  a  voice  at 
Thorpe's  shoulder,  and  the  French  surgeon 
sprang  forward  to  tug  at  one  of  the  ponderous 
iron-studded  doors. 

Thorpe  hastened  to  close  the  other  door.  He 
had  no  need  of  explanations.  The  fighters  of 
both  sides  must  be  barred  out  of  the  hospital. 
The  church  was  now  doubly  a  sanctuary.  As 
the  massive  doors  clanged  shut,  and  their  heavy 
iron  bolts  shot  into  the  sockets,  Lucy  hastened 
to  help  the  French  surgeon  bind  up  the  shell- 
smashed  shoulder  of  the  young  German  brought 
in  by  Thorpe. 

Though  the  fierce  clash  and  clamor  outside 


204  The  Blond  Beast 

was  half  muffled  by  the  thick  doors,  it  told  that 
the  furious  wave  of  fighters  was  surging  up 
around  the  church.  Thorpe  picked  his  way  over 
a  row  of  wounded  men  to  a  pediment  from  which 
he  could  peer  out  through  one  of  the  high  slit 
windows.  The  Turcos,  though  still  inferior  in 
numbers  to  their  enemies,  were  continuing  to 
drive  back  the  superbly  trained  men  of  Majestat  's 
corps  d' elite  everywhere  within  Thorpe's  range 
of  vision. 

Without  machine-guns  or  cavalry  or  infantry 
reserves,  and  helped  little  against  their  imme- 
diate opponents  by  the  shells  of  the  seventy- 
fives,  the  Algerians  out-fought  and  out-gamed 
the  blond  manhood  of  the  "  Super  race."  They 
were  led,  not  driven,  by  their  French  officers. 
Clear  up  over  the  round  of  the  slope,  past  the 
church,  and  through  the  orchard,  almost  down  to 
the  German  batteries,  the  brave  French  Colonials 
prodded  back  their  enemies  with  bayonet  and 
knife.  In  more  than  one  place  the  Prussians 
were  beginning  to  break  into  utter  rout. 

But  then  a  mass  of  reinforcements,  all  the 
Guard  reserve,  was  hurled  forward  at  the 
attackers.  Through  the  tattered  breaking  line 
of  their  own  defeated  van  charged  regiment  after 
regiment,  furious  to  avenge  the  bitter  disgrace 
of  the  Guard's  retreat. 

The  Turcos,  already  half  exhausted  by  the 
tremendous  task  they  had  accomplished,  gave 
back  before  this  fresh  gray  flood  of  enemies. 
Here  and  there  deep  salients  were  driven  into 
their  thin  lines  by  the  impact  of  solid  charging 
columns.  Yet  they  fought  as  terrifically  in  their 


Sword  Against  Cross  205 

retreat  as  in  the  advance.  At  the  points  where 
the  Prussians  threatened  to  break  through,  com- 
panies stood  fast  ( and  fought  till  the  last  man 
was  killed. 

By  the  time  they  had  been  pushed  down  the 
slope  and  out  into  the  midst  of  the  trodden  fields, 
the  bloody  price  exacted  by  them  had  begun  to 
dull  the  fighting  edge  of  the  Prussians.  The 
original  positions  of  the  French  troops  were  still 
being  bombarded  by  the  far-away  howitzers.  In 
the  face  of  their  own  shell  fire  the  Germans  began 
to  slacken  and  halt  their  advance. 

The  Algerians  disengaged  and  fell  back,  the 
tattered  remnants  of  their  battalions  for  the  most 
part  in  good  order.  At  once  the  French  shells 
ranged  down  into  the  front  of  the  Prussians. 
Instead  of  rushing  on  again  after  the  retreat- 
ing Turcos,  the  Guards  hastily  fell  to  digging 
trenches.  Technically  they  had  won  the  battle. 
But  it  was  a  Pyrrhic  victory.  The  cost  had  been 
staggering,  so  vastly  greater  were  their  losses 
than  those  of  their  opponents. 

When  the  tide  of  steel  and  blood  had  ebbed 
back  again  below  the  old  church,  the  bolted  doors 
had  at  once  been  flung  open  for  stretcher-bearers 
to  hasten  out.  As  the  Prussian  ambulance  men 
gave  heed  only  to  their  own  wounded,  Thorpe  and 
the  priest  turned  their  attention  to  the  others. 
They  first  brought  in  the  Turcos  who  had  fallen 
close  before  the  church.  One  was  huddled  in  the 
blood-stained  tonneau  of  Lucy's  car. 

Three  or  four  others,  in  search  of  a  refuge, 
had  dragged  themselves  through  the  shattered 
archway  of  the  flying  buttress.  Thorpe  and  the 


206  The  Blond  Beast 

priest  lifted  upon  their  litter  the  one  who  seemed 
most  in  need  of  immediate  surgical  aid.  As  they 
swung  out  and  around  the  corner  of  the  church 
with  the  stoically  silent  sufferer,  a  half  company 
of  Guards  in  scattered  line  advanced  into  view 
past  the  far  corner.  They  were  methodically 
bayoneting  the  wounded  Turcos  and  searching 
them  for  money  and  ornaments. 

At  the  near  end  walked  Kurt,  his  girlish  cheeks 
white  and  his  head  downbent  in  shame.  Von 
Pappheim  was  midway  out  along  the  line,  direct- 
ing the  work  with  much  gusto.  The  red  dazzle 
of  the  sunrays  on  the  side  of  Lucy's  car  fixed 
his  avidly  roving  gaze.  He  came  striding 
towards  it,  with  an  eagerness  that  told  he  had 
recognized  its  unique  copper-colored  body. 

His  harsh  command  for  the  men  to  follow 
forced  the  attention  of  Kurt,  who  looked  up  and 
perceived  first  the  car  and  then  Thorpe.  But  a 
guttural  order  from  Von  Pappheim  checked  him 
as  he  started  to  run  to  his  friend. 

"  Quick  —  quick!  "  Thorpe  urged  the  priest. 
"  In  with  our  blesse  —  en  avawtl  pronto!  ' 

His  cassocked  bearer-mate  was  already  break- 
ing into  a  jog.  They  came  to  the  portal.  In 
another  moment  they  would  have  swung  into  the 
deep  entrance.  Von  Pappheim,  already  beside 
Kurt,  snatched  the  automatic  pistol  from  the 
lieutenant's  holster  and  fired  three  shots  in  rapid 
succession.  The  priest,  who  was  directly  in  line 
before  Thorpe,  fell  prone  on  his  face,  dropping 
the  front  of  the  litter  with  a  suddenness  that 
pitched  Thorpe  over  and  down  on  top  the 
wounded  Turco. 


Sword  Against  Cross  207 

He  rolled  clear  and  sprang  to  his  feet.  Kurt, 
hurrying  forward  beside  Von  Pappheim,  struck 
up  the  out-thrust  pistol.  The  bullet  whistled 
close  over  Thorpe's  head.  The  astounded  cap- 
tain glared  at  his  inferior  and  thrust  the  pistol 
muzzle  against  his  breast. 

"  Mutiny!  "  he  snarled. 

Kurt  clicked  his  heels  together  and  saluted, 
steady-eyed. 

"  No,  Herr  Captain  —  not  mutiny.  He  is  of 
ours.  He  helped  save  you  from  the  Turcos." 

Even  the  Blond  Beast  Superman  is  not  always 
perfect  in  his  practise  of  ruthlessness.  Von 
Pappheim  was  silenced  and  checked,  at  least  for 
the  moment,  by  the  reminder  of  his  debt  to  the 
hated  American.  Yet  it  was  not  in  his  arrogant, 
domineering  Prussian  nature  to  give  way  with 
good  grace. 

"  Your  sword,"  he  demanded. 

Kurt  offered  scabbard  and  all.  Von  Papp- 
heim jerked  out  the  blade,  and,  backed  by  the 
battle-drunk  soldiers,  turned  to  confront  Thorpe. 

"  You  have  been  aiding  the  filthy  black 
swine,7'  he  accused. 

Thorpe  silently  pointed  to  the  Eed  Cross  on 
the  sleeve  of  his  surgeon's  coat. 

11  Verdammend  to  that  fetish!  "  cursed  the 
captain.  "  The  French  degenerates  have  dis- 
graced civilization  by  bringing  these  barbarians 
to  trample  on  German  kuMur.  You  shall  see 
how  we  treat  the  filth.  You  are  in  our  service. 
I  command  you  to  take  this  pistol  and  shoot 
the  black  devil." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  rejoined  Thorpe.     "  I 


208  The  Blond  Beast 

am  a  neutral  and  in  the  service  of  the  Bed 
Cross  alone  —  therefore  not  subject  to  your 
commands.  I  shall  appeal  to  my  friend  General 
von  Hausen." 

Von  Pappheim  lowered  the  menacing  pistol. 
The  training  of  his  ilk  was  to  bully  inferiors 
and  cringe  at  the  displeasure  of  his  superiors. 
The  mere  mention  of  the  High  Commander's 
name  was  enough  to  turn  the  pistol  away  from 
the  American.  But  the  wounded  Turco  could 
not  claim  an  acquaintance  with  Excellent.  Von 
Pappheim  kicked  the  helpless  man  in  the  face, 
and  signed  to  the  nearest  soldier. 

"  Kaput/'  he  commanded. 

Quickly  as  the  grinning  Prussian  brandished 
his  bayonet  to  pin  the  "black  swine"  to  the 
earth,  Thorpe  managed  to  swing  around  into 
the  portal  before  the  blow  fell.  As  he  entered 
the  church  Von  Pappheim  shouldered  violently 
past  him,  with  Kurt's  sword  and  pistol  held 
ready  for  an  attack.  The  sudden  change  from 
the  sun  glare  into  the  semi-gloom  of  the  church 
brought  him  to  a  blinking  halt.  The  blood- 
maddened  soldiers  came  crowding  in  behind, 
itching  for  another  Turco  massacre. 

Kurt  edged  around  to  breathe  a  whisper  in 
Thorpe's  ear:  "  Lucy. .  .where. ..?" 

Before  Thorpe  could  reply  the  girl  hastened 
forward  with  the  slender  little  French  surgeon 
to  meet  the  intruders.  Kurt  was  beside  her 
even  sooner  than  Thorpe.  Von  Pappheim  smiled 
gloatingly,  and  the  next  moment  scowled  at 
the  surgeon. 

"  Scoundrel!    Someone  fired  from  here,"  he 


Sword  Against  Cross  209 

accused.  "  Our  high-born  General,  Baron  von 
Plattenberg,  has  been  killed.  You  murdered 
him,  you  goat-whiskered  assassin." 

"  But — but,  monsieur — MonDieu!  —  but  listen 
—  consider  —  ' '  gasped  the  amazed  Frenchman. 
"  We  have  no  weapons  here.  There  are  only 
the  blesses,  the  Sisters  of  Mercy,  myself, 
and—" 

' '  Himmel!  Chattering  ape !  That  for  say- 
ing a  Prussian  officer  lies!  " 

The  upraised  sword  slashed  down  across  the 
base  of  the  surgeon's  neck.  Lucy  caught  the 
backward  falling  body  and  bent  over  it  to 
ward  off  a  second  stroke.  Von  Pappheim 
stepped  back,  smiling  with  cynical  satisfaction. 
He  knew  there  was  no  need  for  another  blow. 
Lucy  also  saw  the  tragic  truth.  At  the  Jeering 
laugh  of  the  slayer  she  straightened  up  before 
him,  her  eyes  aflame  with  scorn  and  loathing. 

'  *  You  brave,  noble  hero !  ' '  she  scoffed  — 
"  To  murder  an  unarmed  man  who  was  help- 
ing your  own  soldiers!  " 

Von  Pappheim  went  scarlet.  He  jerked  the 
sword  at  his  waiting  men. 

"  Squad  to  guard  this  spy- woman  and  her 
fellow  Americanisch  spy;  also  Von  Kissel, 
charged  with  mutiny.  No  harm  to  the  girl. 
She  is  my  property.  The  other  women  are 
yours  to  take.  They  have  been  gouging  the 
eyes  of  our  beloved  comrades  —  Hold !  First  fin- 
ish off  and  throw  out  all  of  the  black  swine." 

So  far  the  breakers  of  sanctuary  had  not 
made  themselves  heard  above  the  cries  and 
groans  of  the  many  wounded.  But  now  the 


210  The  Blond  Beast 

carved  Gothic  walls  and  pillars  reverberated 
with  the  yells  of  the  soldiers  as  they  rushed  for- 
ward to  bayonet  the  helpless  French  wounded. 
With  the  bloodthirsty  shouts  of  the  butchers 
mingled  the  screams  of  the  nurses,  the  shrieks 
of  white  French  blesses  for  mercy  and  the 
howls  of  the  Turco  and  Prussian  injured.  All 
were  so  intermingled,  and  so  many  shrapnel 
and  bayonet  torn  faces  were  masked  with  ban- 
dages, that  friend  and  foe  alike  were  trampled 
and  jabbed  in  the  blood-fury  of  the  slayers. 

From  the  altar,  which  he  had  been  using  as 
an  operating  table,  the  portly  German  surgeon 
came  lumbering  into  the  shambles,  his  fat  face 
purple  with  rage. 

"  Her  aits!  "  he  bellowed.  "  'Raus,  you  blun- 
dering fools!  Out  with  you,  blockheads!  num- 
skulls! Goose-step,  you  ganders!  I  will  have 
you  shot  —  court-martialed!  'Raus/" 

Before  that  roar  of  angered  authority,  the 
murderers  not  only  ceased  their  bloody  work 
but  cringed  back  like  ferocious  curs  under  the 
lash  of  their  master.  Von  Pappheim  shoul- 
dered his  way  forward  through  their  midst,  his 
steel-blue  eyes  glaring  with  cold  malevolence. 

"  Beware  how  you  interfere  with  military 
orders,  Herr  Doctor,"  he  threatened.  "  I  myself 
gave  command  to  clean  out  the  black  filth." 

"'Raus,  'raus  —  out  with  you  all!"  bel- 
lowed the  surgeon,  not  a  whit  intimidated. 
* '  My  hospital  —  I  command  here !  Look  to 
your  bungling  work,  Herr  Captain  Furioso. 
Your  mad  cattle  have  trampled  and  gored  our 
own  injured.  Such  foolishness!  " 


Sword  Against  Cross  211 

"  But  all  these  swinish  enemy- women,  goug- 
ing eyes — "  began  Von  Pappheim. 

The  surgeon  cut  short  the  black  slander  — 

11  Pfui!  that  silly  bosh!  Heraus,  else  I 
demand  a  court-martial  on  you. .  .All  those 
thousands  lying  out  on  the  battle  field!  Every 
nurse  means  scores  of  lives  saved  for  the 
Fatherland  —  arms  saved  to  shoot... And  that 
little  French  medic  —  Where  is  my  little  French 
medic. ' ' 

Von  Pappheim  shook  his  sword  in  the  sur- 
geon's face. 

"  The  hairy  ape  tasted  that.  You  may  taste 
the  same.  Already  have  you  given  me  grounds 
for  a  challenge." 

"Bah!"  jeered  the  surgeon.  "A  perfect 
suture-fastener  —  and  for  you  to  go  and  kill 
him  when  he  is  so  needed.  You  bungler !  Chal- 
lenge—  ja,  ja,  challenge.  For  weapon  I  will 
use  a  needle-squirt  full  of  porridge.  With  it 
I  shall  fill  the  empty  hole  inside  your  skull . . . 
Ach!  how  fine  it  will  sound  to  the  high  com- 
mand when  I  make  report.  Herr  Captain, 
Count  Wolf  von  Pappheim,  killing  my  assistant 
and  taking  my  women  nurses  for  his  men's 
pleasure,  when  thousands  of  good  cannon-fodder 
die  for  lack  of  binding  up." 

Even  Von  Pappheim 's  arrogance  could  not 
withstand  such  satire,  backed  by  the  threat  of 
accusation  to  the  High  Command. 

"  There  shall  be  no  need  to  make  report, 
Herr  Doctor,"  he  replied  in  what  was  meant 
for  a  conciliatory  tone.  "If  I  struck  over- 
hastily,  I  had  good  excuse.  The  little  French 


212  The  Blond  Beast 

poisoner  was  insolent.  As  offset  to  his  loss, 
my  men  shall  clean  out  all  this  black  trash 
for  you.  The  order  has  come  to  give  no 
quarter.  Operations  of  troops  are  not  to  be 
hampered  by  the  guarding  of  prisoners.  With 
these  dirty  savages  flung  out,  there  will  be 
more  room  for  our  brave  wounded.  Also,  I 
give  you  leave  to  keep  your  women  nurses  — 
except  that  one  with  green  eyes  and  copper 
hair.  She  is  a  spy  confessed." 

"  That  is  a  bold-faced  lie,  Doctor,"  inter- 
jected Thorpe.  "  I  ask  you  to  safeguard  us 
to  General  von  Hausen." 

"  Later  —  later.  Now  shall  you  stay  here  to 
help,"  answered  the  surgeon.  He  glared  again 
at  Von  Pappheim  and  pointed  towards  the  door. 
"  I  will  cut  off  the  arms  and  legs  of  all  the 
Turcos,  if  I  choose,  but  I  want  no  help  from 
bunglers.  Heraus!  —  You,  also,  ganders.  Set 
free  my  nurse  and  stretcher-bearer.  ' '  Raus — 
'roust* 

Von  Pappheim  had  met  his  match,  and  knew 
it.  He  stalked  out,  muttering  a  command  to 
release  the  spies.  Abjectly  eager  to  appease 
all  the  angry  officers,  the  stupid  soldiers  set 
free  their  lieutenant  along  with  the  Americans. 


CHAPTER  XX 
FORESTALLED 

Before  the  last  of  the  butchers  had  crowded 
out  through  the  doorway  Kurt  sprang  to  clasp 
Lucy's  hands  and  press  them  fervently  against 
his  lips. 

"Miss  Carew  —  liebe  fraulein!  "  he  cried. 
"  Thank  God!  thank  God!  you  are  safe!  " 

She  drew  her  hands  free  and  turned  her 
pallid  face  away  from  him.  Her  dilated  eyes 
fixed  themselves  upon  the  tortured  forms  of 
the  doubly  wounded  men  writhing  among  the 
sprawled  bodies  of  those  who  had  been  slaugh- 
tered outright. 

The  surgeon  was  already  heading  back  up 
the  nave  through  the  midst  of  the  shambles, 
reassuring  the  terror-stricken  nurses  with  his 
bellowed  commands.  All  fell  to  again  with 
redoubled  zeal  at  their  labor  of  mercy.  The 
stretcher-bearers,  who  had  been  blocked  out- 
side during  the  massacre,  hurried  in  with  more 
German  casualties.  They  were  promptly  set 
to  work  flinging  out  the  dead. 

A  shudder  broke  the  spell  of  horror  that 
had  fallen  upon  Lucy.  One  of  her  wrists  was 
bruised  and  numbed  by  the  iron  grip  of  the 
soldier  who  had  held  her  prisoner.  She  flexed 

213 


214  The  Blond  Beast 

it  to  make  sure  the  hand  could  be  used.  When 
she  looked  up,  her  lips  had  regained  a  trace 
of  color  and  were  no  longer  quivering.  She 
turned  her  compassion-darkened  eyes  to  Thorpe, 
looking  past  Kurt  as  if  he  were  invisible. 

"  We  stand  here,  Lan  —  yet  the  shrieks  of 
those  beasts'  victims!  " 

She  started  towards  a  big,  coarse-featured 
Prussian  who  was  crying  for  his  mother  with 
the  piteous  wail  of  an  injured,  frightened  child. 
Kurt  caught  her  arm. 

"  Wait  —  wait!  "   he   urged. 

Unable  to  draw  herself  free,  she  stood  silent, 
icily  disdainful. 

"  Let  her  go,"  interposed  Thorpe.  "  You 
should  know  how  she  feels  —  all  this . . .  Later 
on,  perhaps  —  " 

"  No,  at  once!  "  exclaimed  Kurt.  "  She  — 
you  both  —  you  must  come  at  once.  If  Von 
Pappheim  is  first  to  reach  the  High  Com- 
mander !  —  '  > 

"  What!  You  think  he — Come  along,  Loo!  " 
ordered  Thorpe. 

He  jerked  Lucy  away  from  Kurt  and  flung 
an  arm  about  her  shoulders  to  force  her  to 
the  door.  But  at  his  touch  her  frozen  rigidity 
gave  way.  If  she  did  not  go  willingly,  she 
at  least  made  no  resistance.  Kurt,  darting 
out  ahead,  shouted  his  relief  that  Von  Papp- 
heim had  not  made  off  with  her  car. 

Battles  were  still  raging  between  forces  of 
the  defenders  and  the  invaders.  But  none 
sounded  near  at  hand.  The  cannonading  had 
dulled  to  a  deep  pounding  roar  like  distant 


ForestaUed  215 

thunder.  Out  beyond  the  middle  of  the  fields 
a  few  French  shells  were  falling  short  of  the 
newly  dug  Prussian  trenches.  Evidently  the 
batteries  of  seventy-fives  had  drawn  back,  along 
with  the  tattered  regiments  of  Turcos.  A  soli- 
tary howitzer  shell  screeched  high  overhead,  like 
a  fallen  angel  hurtling  from  heaven  to  hell. 
But  all  the  light  batteries  and  all  the  torn 
regiments  of  the  Guard  in  the  vicinity  were 
inactive.  True,  they  had  defeated  the  enemy 
and  now  held  possession  of  the  battlefield.  No 
less  true,  they  had  been  so  smashed  by  the 
seventy-fives  and  so  mauled  by  the  Turco  pan- 
thers that  none  among  them  had  any  stomach 
left  for  fighting. 

Thorpe  stopped  short  with  Lucy  inside  the 
church  portal.  The  last  of  Von  Pappheim's 
bloody  crew  were  just  disappearing  through  the 
broken  archway  of  the  flying  buttress.  The 
moment  the  last  man  passed  from  sight  Thorpe 
hurried  Lucy  to  her  car. 

A  vain  attempt,  probably  by  Von  Pappheim, 
had  been  made  to  start  the  engine.  Kurt 
was  staring  in  dismay  at  a  flat  rear  tire  that 
had  been  punctured  by  a  bayonet,  either  during 
the  fight,  or  wantonly  by  one  of  Von  Papp- 
heim's party.  Lucy  gave  no  heed  to  it  until 
she  had  thrust  her  key  into  the  magneto  lock 
and  tested  the  self-starter.  The  engine  began 
to  purr.  She  shut  it  off  and  faced  Thorpe. 

"  Nothing  broken.     Open  the  tool-box,  Lan." 

"With  feverish  haste  both  Thorpe  and  Kurt 
set  about  jacking  up  the  car  and  changing  to 
the  spare  tire.  Lucy  came  back  and  glanced 


216  The  Blond  Beast 

over  into  the  tonneau.  In  the  hospital  she 
had  spent  long  hours,  helping  with  unfaltering 
steadiness  to  bind  up  wounds  of  the  most 
ghastly  character.  Yet  now  the  mere  sight  of 
the  darkening  crimson  stains  on  the  tonneau 
cushions  utterly  unnerved  her.  She  sank  down 
upon  the  running  board,  faint  and  dizzy.  Kurt 
thrust  out  his  arms  to  support  her.  Thorpe 
brusquely  shoved  him  aside. 

"  Hold  on.  This  isn't  playing  the  game, 
Loo,"  he  rallied,  and  he  sprang  the  old  quip, 
"  Cheer  up;  the  worst  is  yet  to  come." 

1 1  That  —  that  —  stain  —  on  my  —  cushions !  ' ' 
she  gasped. 

Thorpe  swung  her  up  bodily  into  the  clean 
front  seat,  whipped  the  dust  robe  over  the  rear 
seat,  and  flung  dirt  on  the  floor  of  the  tonneau. 
With  the  eager  assistance  of  Kurt,  he  then 
completed  the  change  of  tires  in  utmost  haste. 
Lucy  moved  over  into  the  driver's  seat. 

"  With  me,"  she  directed  Thorpe. 

Kurt  drew  himself  stiffly  erect,  his  boyish 
face  white. 

11  Miss  Carew,  how  I  have  offended  you  I 
cannot  tell.  Yet  whatever  the  cause  of  your 
displeasure,  I  must  beg  leave  to  go  with  you 
and  Allan.  Your  safety  is  above  all  else." 

Lucy's  cold  gaze  glowed  into  the  heat  of 
scornful  reproach. 

"I  do  not  wish  to  be  unjust  to  you,  Mr. 
von  Kissel.  But  this  —  this  hideousness. .  .Oh! 
if  the  very  awfulness  of  it  did  not  make  it 
seem  unreal,  I'd  go  mad!. .  .Those  soldier  beasts 
—  Von  Pappheim!  That  little  French  doctor  — 


Forestalled  217 

so  considerate  —  so  gentle  and  kind  —  to  all!  " 

The  young  Prussian's  blue  eyes  purpled  with 
anguish. 

"  If  I  could  give  my  own  life  to  bring  him 
back ! . . .  War  is  horrible  —  horrible !  Our  men 
are  maddened  —  men  and  officers.  We  are  in 
an  enemy  country.  All  the  civilians  fire  on 
us  —  they  have  goaded  our  army  into  a  frenzy. 
The  franc-tireurs  —  * ' 

' '  Dinant !  ' '  broke  in  Thorpe.  '  *  You  saw, 
there  at  Dinant!  Are  little  children  franc- 
tireurs?  And  here,  after  victory,  wounded  sol- 
diers stabbed  to  death  —  in  hospital!  " 

A  spasm  of  agony  distorted  Kurt's  face. 

"  God  forgive  us!  One  wrong  heaped  on 
another  —  such  deeds  to  follow  the  wrong  of 
invading  Belgium,  admitted  by  our  chancellor! 
Yet  it  is  for  the  Fatherland . . .  Foes  all  around ! 
A  man  surrounded  by  assassins  cannot  look 
where  all  his  blows  fall.  We  fight  for  the 
Fatherland,  for  liberty,  for  existence." 

"  Your  Crown  Prince  boasted  that  he  would 
plunge  into  a  war  of  conquest." 

11  But  not  Majestdt  —  not  our  noble  peace- 
loving  All-Highest!  "  cried  Kurt.  "If  I  thought 
this  such  a  war  I  would  pray  to  die.  Only  the 
loftiest  aims  can  excuse  such  frightfulness.  But 
the  struggle  was  forced  upon  us.  You  must 
believe  it ! ...  In  secret  I  have  wept  for  the  suf- 
ferings of  those  miserable  misguided  Belgians. 
I  could  weep  tears  of  blood!  " 

Lucy's  eyes  misted  over  as  she  saw  the  young 
man's  head  sag  forward,  chin  on  breast. 

"I'm  not  sure,  but  I  believe  I  can  now  think 


218  The  Blond  Beast 

of  you  apart  from  that  —  Von  Pappheim  and 
—  the  others, '  *  she  murmured.  ' '  You  may 
oome,  if  you  wish." 

Without  lifting  his  bowed  head,  Kurt  entered 
the  blood-stained  tonneau. 

Under  the  girl's  skillful  guidance  the  big  car 
began  to  weave  its  way  between  the  bodies  that 
strewed  the  ground.  No  one  seemed  to  know 
anything  definite  about  the  battle  or  the  loca- 
tion of  Von  Hausen's  headquarters.  After  wan- 
dering about  at  random,  Lucy  hit  upon  the 
scheme  of  following  staff  cars.  Three  lured 
her  off  towards  the  booming  battle  front.  The 
fourth,  in  which  Kurt  recognized  one  of  Von 
Hausen's  personal  aides,  was  traveling  the  other 
way.  As  Lucy  swung  around  to  pursue  it  she 
gave  a  little  cry,  stopped  the  car,  and  sagged 
over  against  Thorpe's  shoulder.  The  pain  of 
a  strained  tendon  in  the  wrist  bruised  by  the 
soldier's  brutal  grip  had  become  excruciating. 
Thorpe  unceremoniously  lifted  her  over  the  back 
of  the  seat  into  Kurt's  arms,  and  grasped  the 
steering-wheel. 

The  car  leaped  into  high.  The  staff  car  was 
making  over  fifty  miles  an  hour.  Thorpe  came 
up  on  it  so  rapidly  that  he  was  only  a  hundred 
yards  in  the  rear  when  the  gray  racer  slowed 
to  make  a  turn.  Regiments  of  Saxon  reserves 
were  marching  down  the  main  road  to  the 
front  as  the  two  cars  went  spinning  along 
with  almost  unvarying  speed.  Dusk  had  almost 
set  in  when  the  gray  car  stopped  at  the  cha- 
teau that  served  as  headquarters  for  the  Third 
Army. 


Forestalled  219 

Thorpe  had  called  back  instructions  to  his 
passengers.  Lucy  replaced  her  Red  Cross  coif. 
When  her  car  came  to  a  stop  behind  its  leader, 
Thorpe  and  Kurt  sprang  out  to  hand  her  from 
the  tonneau  with  an  exaggerated  deference  cal- 
culated to  impress  all  onlookers.  Though  the 
twilight  was  fading,  the  splendor  of  Lucy's 
car  was  still  clearly  discernible.  Her  torn  and 
crimson-stained  Red  Cross  costume  lent  a  touch 
of  mystery  to  the  proceeding. 

The  aide  had  paused  in  the  entrance  to  see 
who  had  presumed  to  pursue  him.  Kurt  drew 
Thorpe  towards  him  and  saluted. 

"  Captain,  I  am  Lieutenant  Kurt  von  Kissel, 
not  unknown  to  Excellent.  I  have  the  honor 
to  introduce  Herr  Thorpe,  the  American  gen- 
tleman whose  services  as  volunteer  were  per- 
sonally accepted  by  the  High  Commander. 
To-day  Herr  Thorpe  has  saved  my  captain  from 
the  bayonets  of  the  charging  Turcos." 

The  aide  mellowed,  and  bowed  pleasantly  to 
Thorpe,  who  modestly  accepted  the  imputation 
of  heroism.  Kurt  struck  while  the  iron  was 
hot  — 

"When  Excellent  is  at  leisure,  Herr  Thorpe 
desires  to  pay  his  compliments  in  person  and 
introduce  a  lady  who  also  has  been  of  great 
service." 

"  You  are  the  Von  Kissel  of  whom  Excellent 
has  spoken,  nichtl  "  said  the  aide.  He  peered 
closer  at  Lucy's  beautiful  eyes,  twirled  his 
waxed  mustache,  and  bowed  gallantly.  "  The 
most  charming  fraulein  is  welcome  —  and  Herr 
Thorpe.  Follow." 


220  The  Blond  Beast 

With  such  an  escort,  the  visitors  had  slight 
difficulty  in  passing  the  sentries.  As  the  cha- 
teau housed  the  High  Commander,  it  had  as 
yet  been  only  partly  pillaged.  In  the  salon  a 
pair  of  young  aides  were  amusing  themselves 
by  shooting  each  other's  image  in  the  mag- 
nificent mirrors.  The  captain  ordered  them  out, 
bowed  Lucy  to  a  chair,  and  withdrew,  smiling. 

The  minutes  of  waiting  dragged.  In  the 
deepening  dusk  Kurt  began  to  pace  the  salon. 
Thorpe  sat  still  beside  Lucy,  but  a  cold  sweat 
moistened  his  forehead.  Much  time  had  been 
lost  in  the  race  from  the  hospital.  What  if 
Von  Pappheim  had  arrived  before  them  and 
gained  the  general's  ear? 

An  orderly  came  to  light  the  cut-glass  chan- 
deliers. Another  quarter  hour  of  anxious  wait- 
ing. A  disquieting  memory  flashed  into  Thorpe 's 
consciousness. 

"Kurt!"  he  exclaimed  —  "That  dodge  of 
ours  at  Chalons  over  the  verboten  film  —  what 
did  Papp  do  about  it?  " 

The  young  officer's  tense  face  relaxed  in  a 
half  smile. 

"  He  does  not  know.  I  jumped  aboard  the 
wrong  train,  as  it  was  moving.  He  missed 
it.  At  home  mobilization  was  under  way.  I 
was  given  a  special  detail.  I  did  not  join  my 
regiment  on  the  Ourthe  until  the  advance  began. 
Since  then  all  this  upset  and  fighting.  He  has 
not  yet  questioned  me." 

Thorpe  nodded.  "  That  is  well.  If  asked,  you 
will  tell  only  that  you  were  unable  to  make 
off  with  the  film." 


Forestalled  221 

"  But  —  a  lie  to  save  myself?  I  —  I  cannot, 
dear  friend." 

1 '  Not  a  lie  —  the  literal  truth,  Kurt.  Your 
moral  nature  prevented  you  from  taking  the 
film.  But  you  are  not  bound  to  tell  why  you 
were  unable  to  commit  the  theft.  Leave  the 
details  to  me.  Promise." 

As  the  irresolute  young  man  hesitated,  the 
aide  entered  briskly,  bowed  low  to  Lucy,  and 
offered  her  his  arm. 

"  Good  fortune,  fraulein,"  he  congratulated. 
"  Excellent  has  dined  early  and  is  in  the  best 
of  humors.  Everywhere  we  have  smashed  back 
the  enemy.  Namur  is  ours  —  Dinant  —  Char- 
leroi.  The  little  English  army  has  been  swept 
south  from  Mons,  and  already  Von  Kluck  has 
it  surrounded. ' ' 

"  Victory!  "  cried  Kurt.  "A  short  war  — 
nichtf  " 

The  aide's  beaming  smile  vanished.  Lucy  had 
turned  from  him  with  cool  hauteur,  to  take 
Thorpe's  arm.  But  the  aide  was  a  German  — 
Ach!  To  so  refuse  the  escort  of  a  staff  cap- 
tain, the  fraulein  must  be  a  Highness.  Defer- 
ence, not  gallantry,  was  in  order. 

With  the  air  of  a  court  chamberlain,  the  aide 
led  the  visitors  through  a  long  suite  of  rooms 
and  down  a  corridor  to  another  suite  in  the 
far  wing.  He  ushered  them  into  a  map-hung 
ante-chamber,  and  went  forward  to  open  the 
door  in  the  opposite  wall. 

Through  the  opening  came  the  strident  voice 
of  Von  Pappheim. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
PAWNS    IN    THE    GAME 

Both  Thorpe  and  Kurt  turned  dismayed 
looks  upon  Lucy.  She  gazed  up  inquiringly 
at  Thorpe. 

"  Kurt  spoke  of  your  saving  the  count?  " 

"  He  himself  drove  back  the  Turcos.  I  merely 
helped  Papp  to  the  rear." 

"  All  the  better.     Trump  the  knave." 

The  aide  had  announced  the  callers.  A 
morose  voice  boomed  through  the  doorway  — 
"  Herein!  " 

Thorpe  placed  Lucy's  hand  on  Kurt's  arm, 
and  led  the  way.  Excellent  was  sagged  down 
in  an  easy  chair,  puffing  away  at  a  long-stemmed 
meerschaum.  On  a  tray  at  his  elbow  stood 
a  full  stein  of  champagne.  One  of  his  uplifted 
spurred  boots  was  roweling  the  piano  finish  of 
a  hand-carved  rosewood  table,  the  far  side  of 
which  was  heaped  with  food-messed  silverware 
and  eggshell  china  half  covered  by  the  back- 
flung  wine-stained  damask  cloth.  From  the  far 
end  of  the  table  Von  Pappheim  watched  the 
entrance  of  Lucy  with  a  cruel  smile. 

Seemingly  oblivious  to  herr  general's  scowl, 
Thorpe  advanced  with  a  show  of  suave  defer- 
ence. It  was  no  time  to  stickle  over  non- 
essentials.  He  could  imagine  all  too  vividly 

222 


Pawns  in  the  Game  223 

what  would  he  Lucy's   fate  if  Von  Pappheim 
had  his  way. 

"  Congratulations,  Excellent!  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  hear  that  we  have  won  all  along  the  line. 
But  what  else  could  be  expected  with  you  in 
command?  " 

The  frown  of  the  High  Commander  began 
to  relax.  Von  Pappheim  put  in  a  hasty  stroke. 

1 '  Excellent,  that  is  the  spy-woman  —  that 
she-wolf  in  sheep's  clothing." 

Lucy  bowed  to  him  with  mock  graciousness. 

"  What  a  gallant  compliment  from  noble  Cap- 
tain Furioso !  Yet  it  rather  differs  from  those 
he  paid  me  before  I  gave  him  the  basket." 

Von  Pappheim *s  twitching  mustache  tushes 
betrayed  that  the  neat  counter-thrust  had  pierced 
to  the  quick.  General  von  Hausen  scrunched 
his  spurred  heel  off  the  table  and  set  up  to 
glower  at  the  impertinent  nurse. 

"  Eimmel!  You  dare  come  before  me,  you 
foreign  spy-woman,  and  flout  an  officer  of  my 
army?  " 

Kurt  stepped  before  Lucy,  his  whole  body 
quivering  with  the  intensity  of  his  emotion. 

11  Excellent,  I  beg  leave  to  speak  for  Miss 
Carew.  She  saved  the  mother  and  Elsa — 
brought  them  safe  out  of  France  after  war 
was  declared." 

Again  the  general's  frown  relaxed. 

"  So?  —  Your  good  mother  spoke  highly  of 
the  fraulein.  Yet  for  her  to  turn  back  before 
our  lines  —  that  looks  not  so  well.  You  would 
wed  her.  You  are  prejudiced  in  her  favor, 
mchtf" 


224  The  Blond  Beast 

"  May  not  Captain  von  Pappheim  be  no  less 
prejudiced  against  her,  Excellenz?  From  the 
first  he  knew  of  the  innocent  indiscretion  com- 
mitted by  Miss  Carew,  upon  which  he  now  bases 
his  charge  of  espionage.  She  herself  told  him 
the  whole  truth,  and  he  made  light  of  the  mat- 
ter—  until  after  he  failed  to  win  her  hand." 

Von  Pappheim  met  the  general's  look  of 
inquiry  with  a  cynical  smile. 

"  Excellenz  knows  my  connection  with  the 
secret  service.  There  is  no  discredit  in  making 
love  to  win  the  confidence  of  a  spy-woman.  I 
made  light  of  her  crime  until  I  could  get  pos- 
session of  full  proofs." 

"  Pardon  me,  General,"  interposed  Thorpe, 
as  Kurt  stood  speechless  before  this  adroit 
move.  "  Pardon  me,  but  I  wish  to  inform  you 
that  this  noble  count  detective  is  what  in 
America  we  would  term  a  fourflusher  and  an 
ingrate.  In  the  first  place,  he  has  not  a  particle 
of  proof  against  Miss  Carew  —  not  even  suffi- 
cient evidence  to  condemn  her  before  a  drum- 
head court-martial.  As  for —  " 

The  general  held  up  a  hand  for  silence,  and 
again  looked  inquiringly  at  the  accused.  Von 
Pappheim  was  no  longer  smiling.  He  frowned 
at  Kurt. 

"  The  verboten  film  —  you  delivered  it  as 
ordered?  " 

Kurt  clicked  his  heels  together  and  saluted. 
"  I  have  to  report  that  I  was  unable  to  bring 
away  the  alleged  verboten  film." 

"  So  you  failed  the  Fatherland,"  gibed  Von 
Pappheim.  He  cast  a  significant  look  at  the 


Pawns  in  the  Game  225 

lowering  general.  "  Excellent,  you  have  heard. 
Far  worse  than  I  feared.  You  see  her  devilish 
beauty.  She  has  corrupted  him." 

"  Just  a  moment,  General,"  Thorpe  thrust  in. 
"  Do  not  listen  seriously  to  this  fourflusher's 
bluff.  Isn't  it  noble  of  him  to  stand  there 
seeking  the  life  of  a  lady  who  has  been  saving 
your  wounded  soldiers,  and  accusing  of  treason 
the  officer  whose  heroism  has  to-day  saved  his 
life!" 

Von  Pappheim  flushed  crimson.  "  The  woman 
was  in  a  pretended  hospital,  cutting  out  the 
tongues  of  our  wounded — gouging  their  eyes — " 

"  Enough,"  broke  in  the  general.  "  Such 
talk  is  only  for  use  to  keep  the  soldiers  keen  — 
and  for  foreign  consumption." 

"  Oh,  the  herr  count  has  a  witness,  General," 
rallied  Thorpe.  "  My  surgeon-major  was  pres- 
ent all  the  time,  watching  Miss  Carew  do  the 
eye-gouging.  Incidentally,  he  saw  the  herr  count 
turn  his  men  loose  upon  the  patients  in  such 
manner  that  several  wounded  Guards  were 
bayoneted. ' ' 

Von  Pappheim,  stung  beyond  discretion, 
flashed  out  the  sword  that  hung  at  his  belt. 
Thorpe  faced  him,  inwardly  quaking,  outwardly 
unflinching  and  contemptuous.  During  the  long 
moment  that  the  astounded  general  sat  speech- 
less, the  upraised  weapon  was  to  Thorpe  a 
veritable  sword  of  Damocles.  Had  he  made 
the  slightest  movement  or  uttered  a  single  word, 
the  blade  would  have  flashed  down  upon  him. 

The  general's  gaping  mouth  snapped  shut, 
to  yaw  wide  in  a  roar  of  offended  dignity: 


226  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Down!  Back,  you  Prussian!  You  forget  I 
am  here.  Sheathe  your  sword!  " 

The  voice  of  Authority  sent  Von  Pappheim 
backward,  and  brought  down  his  sword  arm, 
though  he  still  was  so  enraged  that  he  could 
not  speak.  Thorpe  thrust  again  — 

"  Would  it  not  be  gracious,  Excellent,  for 
the  noble  count  to  return  the  sword  to  its 
owner?  He  borrowed  it  to  kill  a  French  sur- 
geon, who,  like  Miss  Carew,  was  busy  saving 
your  soldiers.  His  own  sword  he  lost  when 
he  fell  under  the  feet  of  the  Turcos." 

"  Donnerwetter! "  rumbled  the  general. 
"  What  fool's  tale  is  this?  " 

"  Mine,"  claimed  Thorpe.  "  I  was  fool 
enough  to  follow  at  the  rear  of  the  Guard's 
great  charge.  When  the  Turcos  countered, 
Captain  von  Pappheim  was  struck  down  and 
over-run  by  the  enemy.  Lieutenant  von  Kissel 
led  a  rally  that  saved  him.  No  man  has  ever 
done  a  braver  deed.  All  the  Guard  line  was 
giving  back  before  the  fearful  rush  of  the  Tur- 
cos. Yet  my  friend  here  smashed  a  hole  through 
the  mad  dervishes,  leading  a  long  pace  in  front 
of  his  men." 

Kurt  blushed  like  a  girl.  "  I  could  not  per- 
mit my  captain  to  be  taken,  Excellent.  Besides, 
it  was  Herr  Thorpe  who  ran  in  and  supported 
the  captain  until  we  regained  the  line." 

"  So  —  so,  boy.  This  begins  to  have  a  dif- 
ferent look,"  muttered  the  general.  He  raised 
his  lowering  gaze  to  Von  Pappheim.  "  Shall 
witnesses  be  called?  The  Iron  Cross  cannot  be 
given  without  clear  proof." 


Pawns  in  the  Game  227 

Von  Pappheim  started  as  if  lashed  across  the 
face,  bowed  stiffly,  and  replied:  "I  do  not 
deny  the  rescue;  though  how  I  was  struck 
down,  unless  by  a  treacherous  blow  from 
behind—" 

A  meaning  glance  towards  Thorpe  completed 
the  sentence.  Thorpe  smiled. 

11  The  noble  count  runs  true  to  form.  As 
it  happens,  however,  the  blow  was  from  the 
front  —  the  backward  jerk  of  a  gun  butt  as 
herr  captain  bent  to  reload  his  pistol.  The 
bump  still  shows  at  the  upper  edge  of  his 
forehead. ' ' 

General  von  Hausen  stared,  pondered,  took 
a  puff  at  his  neglected  pipe,  and  asked  with 
explosive  suddenness:  "  The  tale  of  bayonet- 
ing our  casualties  in  the  hospital,  Herr  Count 
—  you  would  call  the  surgeon  to  disprove, 
nichtf  " 

' '  My  men,  Excellenz,  were  still  hot  from  fight- 
ing. A  few  mistakes  may  have  been  made.  As 
for  the  French  ape-doctor,  he  was  insolent." 

Lucy's  pent-up  scorn  flared  — 

"  That  is  a  deliberate,  malicious  lie,  Count 
von  Pappheim!  You  know  it... And  here  are 
Mr.  Thorpe  and  Mr.  von  Kissel  to  prove  it. 
You  accused  the  little  doctor  of  assassination. 
He  protested  his  innocence.  But  before  he 
could  tell  that  your  own  surgeon  was  there, 
you  —  murdered  him!  " 

Von  Pappheim  gave  back  a  step  before  the 
impact  of  this  passionate  charge. 

"So  —  so.  The  fraulein  also  is  a  good 
fencer,"  rumbled  the  general,  a  frosty  twinkle 


228  The  Blond  Beast 

in  his  cold  eyes.  "  The  accused  strike  back 
at  you,  Captain.  Perhaps  not  alone  your  men 
may  have  made  a  few  mistakes.. .  .Your  proof 
that  the  fraulein  is  a  spy!  I  would  now  make 
examination. ' ' 

Crimson  with  chagrin,  Von  Pappheim  pointed 
a  shaking  finger  at  Kurt.  "  He  has  confessed 
his  failure  to  secure  the  verboten  film,  as 
ordered. ' ' 

"  Achl  —  And  you  choose  for  the  mission  a 
boy  untrained  in  secret  service  work.  Enough. 
No  more  of  your  little  mistakes.  Report  your- 
self to  your  regiment.  Lieutenant  von  Kissel 
will  join  my  staff  until  further  orders.  Keep 
his  sword.  After  the  use  to  which  you  have 
put  it,  he  will  prefer  another.  A  blunder  is 
worse  than  a  crime.  To  kill  a  surgeon  who 
was  saving  our  good  cannon-fodder  —  pfui! 
Heraus!  " 

Von  Pappheim,  his  face  like  a  death  mask, 
saluted  and  stalked  out  as  if  on  parade.  Before 
he  was  through  the  doorway,  Thorpe  was  bow- 
ing to  the  general. 

"  Excellent,  permit  me  the  honor  of  present- 
ing to  you  my  countrywoman,  Fraulein  Carew, 
a  lady  of  wealth  and  high  position,  an  inti- 
mate friend  of  the  Von  Kissels,  and  by  His 
Imperial  Highness,  the  Crown  Prince,  named 
the  American  Princess." 

"  The  prince  has  an  eye  for  pretty  women," 
disapproved  the  general.  "  And  this  stained 
dress  —  it  does  not  become  a  princess. 

Lucy  made  no  attempt  to  be  gracious.  Her 
green  eyes  met  the  frown  of  the  High  Com- 


Pawns  in  the  Game  229 

mander  with  the  hauteur  of  a  princess  in  spirit 
if  not  a  princess  by  birth.  This  rude,  domineer- 
ing man  was  one  of  the  "  higher  ups  "  who  had 
at  least  permitted,  if  they  had  not  ordered, 
the  killing  of  civilians  and  wounded  soldiers. 
He  had  censured  Von  Pappheim,  not  for  the 
crime  of  murdering  the  little  French  doctor, 
but  for  the  blunder  of  destroying  a  man  who 
could  have  saved  more  of  his  cannon-fodder. 

11  My  dress  would  honor  a  queen,"  she  re- 
joined. "  I  am  vastly  more  proud  of  it  than 
of  the  gown  I  wore  at  the  fete  where  I  met  the 
Crown  Prince.  It  was  willed  to  me  by  a  Sis- 
ter of  Mercy,  who  was  killed  when  your  guns 
shelled  our  Red  Cross  hospital." 

The  general  peered  soberly  at  the  jagged  hole 
in  the  bosom  of  the  dress,  to  which  Lucy  was 
pointing. 

11  For  nursing  it  should  be  mended  and 
washed,"  he  reproved.  "  Now,  speak  straight 
and  quickly.  What  is  all  this  about  verboten 
pictures?  " 

"  If  I  may  be  permitted  to  explain —  "  began 
Thorpe. 

"  Be  silent.     The  fraulein  has  a  tongue." 

"  It  is  this  way,  if  you  must  know,"  said 
Lucy.  "  In  America  we  never  see  spies  except 
in  the  movies  and  melodramas.  They're  just 
a  stage  property.  I  came  to  Germany  expecting 
to  be  treated  with  the  courtesy  and  trust  we 
show  to  tourists  from  your  country.  For  years 
everyone  has  been  free  to  take  photos  of  every- 
thing in  America." 

The    High    Commander    nodded     satirically. 


230  The  Blond  Beast 

t 

'  *  Ja  ja,  everything  —  forts  and  all. ' ' 

"  So  I  saw  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  take 
a  roll  of  snapshots  at  Essen.  When  I  reached 
Berlin,  two  Prussian  detectives  tried  to  scare 
me  into  giving  up  the  film.  I  substituted 
another,  and  slipped  the  one  they  wanted  into 
the  dispatch-pouch  of  the  American  ambassa- 
dor. I  know  now  this  was  all  very  silly,  but 
I  thought  it  a  good  joke  to  dupe  those  stupid 
detectives.  Had  they  been  decent  about  it  — 
even  half-way  polite  —  I'd  willingly  have  given 
up  the  film.  But  for  them  to  come  at  me  as 
if  I  were  a  criminal ! . . .  I  always  have  abomi- 
nated bullying. " 

The  general  puffed  at  his  pipe,  pondered, 
and  remarked  in  a  tone  of  fatherly  mildness: 
"  You  will  give  the  verboten  film  to  me,  and 
all  will  be  blown  over  —  nichtf  " 

"  I  wish  I  could,  sir;  only,  you  see,  it  is —  " 
the  girl  paused  a  moment  at  Thorpe's  nudge, 
but  went  on  again  in  her  candid  manner  —  "it 
is  in  France. " 

The  High  Commander  bristled  into  sudden 
irascibility  — 

"  In  France?  So  —  Von  Pappheim  was  right. 
You  have  confessed  it.  You  are  a  spy-woman. 
I  will  have  you  court-martialed.  This  Herr 
Thorpe  —  he  is  an  accomplice,  as  Von  Papp- 
heim charges." 

Lucy  checked  Kurt's  horrified  protest  with  a 
gesture,  and  faced  the  general,  quiet  and  dis- 
dainful. 

11  Can't  you  call  in  Baron  Munchausen  to  cor- 
roborate the  herr  count?  He  would  make  a 


Pawns  in  the  Game  231 

more    plausible   witness    at   the   court-martial." 

"  Do  not  trifle  with  me,"  sternly  admonished 
the  general.  "  Women  spies  are  shot,  as  well 
as  men." 

"  You  will  do  no  such  thing!  "  cried  Lucy. 
"  It's  all  a  silly  bungle,  this  making  a  moun- 
tain out  of  a  molehill.  You  scolded  the  herr 
count  for  blundering.  How  about  yourself? 
Those  snapshots  are  in  France,  where  you  can- 
not get  them.  So  far  I  have  kept  them  secret, 
but  I  have  arranged  that  if  harm  is  done  to 
me  —  or  to  Mr.  Thorpe  —  they  shall  be  deliv- 
ered to  the  French  army." 

Von  Hausen  leaned  forward,  a  grim  smile  on 
his  harsh  lips. 

"  So  —  you  call  Checkmate.  I  see  you  are 
no  fool." 

"  Nor  are  you,  sir,"  Lucy  returned  the  com- 
pliment. "  You  have  yourself  said  that  a  blun- 
der is  worse  than  a  crime.  Frankly,  I  do  not 
believe  those  pictures  are  the  least  bit  harmful. 
But  if  you  want  the  French  to  make  sure  on 
that  point,  you  have  only  to  shoot  me  or  Mr. 
Thorpe." 

"  And  if  not?  " 

"  Then  I'll  get  them  as  soon  as  I  can  and 
present  them  to  you,  providing  you  will  treat 
these  silly  accusations  of  Count  von  Pappheim 
with  the  contempt  they  and  he  deserve.  You 
have  seen  how  little  his  truthfulness  and  judg- 
ment are  to  be  trusted." 

The  general  leaned  over  and  tapped  emphat- 
ically upon  the  scratched  rosewood  table. 

"  Fraulein,  by  Sedan  Day,  September  fourth, 


232  The  Blond  Beast 

our  invincible  army  shall  have  crushed  France 
down  to  the  lowness  of  Spain,  and  on  that 
day  of  glorious  memory  for  the  Fatherland  the 
Crown  Prince  shall  enter  Paris.  No  pictures 
from  Essen  could  bring  help  to  the  French 
army  in  so  short  a  time." 

Thorpe,  himself  sickened  by  this  smashing 
bludgeon  blow  that  shattered  Lucy's  defense 
into  fragments,  reached  out  to  catch  her  as 
she  swayed.  But  she  rallied  and  replied  with 
a  fair  degree  of  steadiness: 

"  If  that  is  true,  General,  I  then  have  only 
your  sense  of  right  and  justice  between  me 
and  the  —  vicious  false  charges  of  Count  von 
Pappheim. ' ' 

"  Nein,  fraulein.  There  is  yet  one  chance  for 
you,"  rumbled  the  master.  His  fingers  again 
tapped  emphatically  on  the  ruined  table  top. 
"You  have  shown  yourself  most  clever.  That 
which  has  put  your  head  into  the  lion's  mouth 
can  pull  it  out  again.  Herr  Thorpe  will  remain 
my  guest  —  under  guard  —  while  you  will  escape 
through  the  lines  to  Paris.  You  will  make  loud 
complaint  of  how  you  have  been  mistreated, 
you  will  get  that  verboten  film,  and  you  will 
learn  much  about  the  French  armies.  Then  you 
will  come  back  quickly  and  report." 

"  Good  God!  You  can't  mean  that!  "  cried 
Thorpe.  "  The  French  will  shoot  her!  " 

"  Ach  —  and  I  will  have  only  you  to  shoot 
if  she  does  not  come  back.  In  war  one  must 
take  risks.  I  risk  that  she  will  stay  with  the 
French,  and  allow  you  to  die.  A  most  small 
risk,  fraulein  —  nichtV  ' ' 


Pawns  in  the  Game  233 

Lucy's  anguished  glance  at  Thorpe  had 
answered  the  question  before  it  was  asked.  She 
made  a  brave  attempt  to  rally. 

( l  What  if  —  if  I  refuse  to  go  ?  I  am  an 
American  —  so  is  Mr.  Thorpe.  We  will  appeal 
to  our  ambassador." 

Von  Hausen  smiled  grimly.  "  Dead  men  — 
and  women  —  make  no  appeals.  Besides,  only 
a  pair  of  spies  shot.  Who  will  bother?  " 

"  But  we  are  not  spies,  Excellenz,"  protested 
Thorpe,  striving  to  meet  might  with  reason. 
"  There  is  not  a  particle  of  real  proof.  Miss 
Carew  is  absolutely  innocent.  If  you  shoot  her, 
all  America  will  turn  against  Germany." 

"  America  —  pfui!  Yankees  care  only  for 
money.  They  have  no  fighting  edge,  the  greedy, 
gold-rooting  schweine.  At  the  most,  a  half 
apology  from  our  Foreign  Office  —  and  the  inci- 
dent is  forgotten.  But  you  and  the  so-charming 
fraulein  will  be  lying  under  the  sod  —  if  time 
is  found  to  bury  dead  spies." 

Again  Lucy  looked  at  Thorpe.  "I  —  I  will 
stay  —  gladly,  if  you  —  will  only  send  him 
instead." 

' '  Nein.  It  is  work  for  a  woman  —  a  clever, 
pretty  young  woman.  The  French  fools  are 
most  gallant.  We  have  women  spies  all  over 
France  —  all  over  the  world  —  men,  too;  but 
the  women  are  the  more  successful  —  in  France. ' ' 

Scorn  flashed  through  the  fear  in  Lucy's 
eyes. 

"  Now  I  know  why  your  men  commit  such 
wrongs  pn  the  wounded  and  helpless!  "  she 
cried.  "  They  are  commanded  by  monsters!  " 


234  The  Blond  Beast 

At  the  look  on  the  High  Commander's  face, 
Kurt  flung  himself  forward,  his  hands  implor- 
ingly outstretched. 

"  Excellent!  She  is  beside  herself  —  over- 
wrought! Von  Pappheim  lied!  She  is  inno- 
cent! I  pledge  my  life  she  is  innocent!  " 

Death  glared  from  the  reddened  eyes  of  the 
High  Commander.  He  spoke  with  a  clipped, 
precise  enunciation,  more  menacing  than  a  roar: 
"  Innocent  or  guilty,  she  shall  go,  or  she  shall 
be  shot."  ' 

"  If  I  go,  how  do  I  know  I  will  not  be  shot 
when  I  come  back?  "  cried  Lucy. 

The  tightly  drawn  lips  of  the  general  relaxed 
in  their  grim  smile. 

"  Good  —  You  will  go,  fraulein.  When  you 
have  succeeded,  then  a  reward  to  you  and 
freedom  for  Herr  Thorpe.  I  pledge  you  my 
word. ' ' 

"  Was  not  the  honor  of  Germany  pledged  to 
respect  the  neutrality  of  Belgium?  " 

This  time  Thorpe  felt  certain  that  the  order 
of  execution  would  be  given  —  The  general 
merely  widened  his  smile. 

"  Bah!  A  scrap  of  paper,  as  Hollweg  has 
well  said.  Treaties  and  pledges  are  mere  smoke 
and  ashes  when  self-interest  no  longer  backs 
them." 

"  Then  your  own  word  of  honor?  "  queried 
Lucy. 

"  It  will  stand  fast.  To  break  a  good  tool 
would  be  a  blunder.  Later  you  can  be  used 
among  the  Engldnder  schwewe." 

Lucy  shuddered,  glanced  up  at  Thorpe's  dis- 


Pawns  in  the  Game  235 

mayed  face,  drew  in  a  quick  breath,  and  quietly 
inquired:  "  When  do  I  start  for  Paris?  " 

"  Good  —  most  g6od!  I  thought  you  would 
see  the  point,  fraulein.  War  is  a  great  chess 
game.  All  the  pawns  should  be  used  for  tak- 
ing the  kings  and  castles.  To  show  there  is 
no  hard  feeling,  I  will  accept  the  parole  of 
Herr  Thorpe  not  to  escape.  He  will  report 
each  day  to  his  friend  Von  Kissel. .  .Your  parole 
d'honeur  to  that,  Herr  Thorpe." 

*  *  Why,  if  you  —  Yes,  I  give  you  my  word 
of  honor,  Excellenz." 

The  dictator  turned  again  to  Lucy. 

"  You  will  start  at  once.  Von  Pappheim  has 
told  me  that  you  have  a  fine  car.  You  will  be 
taken  to  where  there  is  a  hole  through  the 
French  lines.  There,  in  your  so-sad  dress,  you 
will  escape  from  us,  with  perhaps  one  or  two 
dying  Frenchmen.  Now  you  will  say  farewell 
to  your  friends  while  I  write  the  orders.  Much 
time  I  have  lost  on  this  little  matter.  Now  I 
must  go  to  work." 

"  My  maid  is  at  that  hospital,"  said  Lucy. 
"  She  must  go  with  me." 

11  Ja,  fraulein,  ja.  A  fraulein  should  go 
nowhere  without  a  chaperon." 


CHAPTER  XXII 
INTO   FRANCE 

The  High  Commander  drained  down  at  one 
enormous  draught  the  brimming  steinful  of 
champagne,  heaved  himself  to  his  feet,  and 
started  towards  the  anteroom. 

"  Herein,"  he  called. 

One  of  the  aides  who  had  shot  the  mirrors 
in  the  salvn  popped  through  the  doorway  and 
came  sharply  to  attention. 

"  Food  for  three  —  at  once  —  good  food," 
snapped  the  master. 

The  young  officer  saluted  and  dashed  out 
again.  As  Von  Hausen  pompously  followed 
him,  Thorpe  swung  around  before  Lucy. 

"  Whoops,  Loo!  Three  cheers  for  the  lamb 
who  bearded  the  lion  in  his  den  and  pulled 
the  wool  over  —  Tut,  tut,  tut!  Buck  up,  old 
chum.  Cut  out  the  weeps.  You've  played  him 
to  a  fare-ye-well.  Tight  pinch  for  a  while  — 
sure.  But  now  it's  all  over  except  the  shout- 
ing and  the  getaway.  You'll  make  Paris  in 
two  or  three  days,  nail  those  confounded  snap- 
shots, and  streak  out  for  the  good  old  U.  S.  A." 

Kurt  pressed  closer,  his  boyish  face  distorted 
with  conflicting  emotions. 

"  Hush!  "  he  warned.    "  If  she  is  to  do  that 

236 


Into  France  237 

—  But  she  has  agreed  to  come  back . . .  And  if 
she  does  not,  your  life  —  ' ' 

"  Forget  it!  "  rejoined  Thorpe.  "  This  is 
where  we  put  one  over  on  the  war-machine. 
The  mouse  slips  out  of  the  elephant  trap  — 
nicU?  " 

Lucy  dashed  away  the  tears  that  brimmed 
in  her  lovely  eyes. 

"  Don't  mind  his  nonsense,  Kurt,"  she  reas- 
sured. "  It's  just  like  his  silliness  to  think 
I'd  go  off  and  leave  him.  I'm  coming  back  if 
it's  possible. .  .It  will  have  to  be  possible." 

"Oh  —  fudge,"  ridiculed  Thorpe.  "When 
you  go,  Loo,  you're  going  to  keep  right  on 
going  —  No,  listen.  What  happens  to  me  doesn't 
matter  a  continental.  It's  you,  old  chum  — 
you  and  —  and  America.  Don't  you  see?  We're 
neutrals.  We  can't  shame  our  country  by 
betraying  France. ' ' 

"  Not  even  to  save  our  lives?"  questioned 
the  girl.  "  Don't  be  silly,  Lan.  Who  got  you 
into  this  mess?  I'm  at  least  going  to  fetch 
those  miserable  snapshots.  When  he.  sees  how 
harmless  they  are,  he'll  let  you  go,  and  maybe 
me  too." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  eagerly  broke  in  Kurt.  "  That 
will  prove  you  are  not  against  the  Fatherland. 
I  shall  ask  for  you  to  be  sent  to  the  mother 
and  Elsa.  If  Von  Pappheim  seeks  again  to 
interfere,  I  will  challenge  him." 

The  girl  smiled  at  his  fervor.  "Sir  Galahad! 
—  Or  is  it  Parsifal  ?  —  And  you,  Lan  —  Trust  in 
the  Lord,  and  keep  your  powder  dry.  Between 
you  and  me  and  Kurt,  we'll  all  pull  each  other 


238  The  Blond  Beast 

out  by  the  boot  straps  before  we  are  through." 

The  brave  banter  failed  to  lighten  Thorpe's 
dejection.  "  It's  no  joke,  Loo.  I  tell  you 
flatly,  if  you'll  not  promise  to — " 

"  Sh-s-sh!  "  she  warned.  "  That  captain  and 
—  Oh,  thank  goodness!  Vittles  and  drink  — 
a  meal,  a  real  civilized  meal!  I've  not  had  a 
bite  all  day.  I  could  eat  a  fried  gargoyle!  " 

All  private  talk  was  now  at  an  end.  With 
the  orderlies  who  appeared  to  serve  dinner  for 
the  High  Commander's  "  guests  "  came  the 
young  aide  and  the  captain  whose  car  had  led 
the  party  to  headquarters.  While  the  captain 
gravely  explained  that  he  had  been  chosen  to 
escort  the  fraulein  through  the  lines,  one  of 
the  orderlies  cleared  the  table  by  the  simple 
process  of  gathering  up  the  used  table  service 
in  the  cloth  and  hurling  all  into  a  corner. 

But  even  the  crash  of  the  shattered  eggshell 
china  could  not  divert  Lucy  from  her  delight 
over  the  dinner  that  was  served  on  a  fresh 
cloth.  The  cream  of  the  land  had  been  skimmed 
for  the  High  Commander  and  the  mess  of  his 
personal  staff.  Kurt  shared  Lucy's  high  spir- 
its from  the  start,  and  Thorpe  hastened  to 
make  pretense  of  light-heartedness.  To  have 
continued  glum  might  have  depressed  the  girl 
when  she  most  needed  strengthening. 

The  captain  sat  at  the  fourth  side  of  the 
table,  politely  attentive  to  the  needs  of  the 
guests  and  observant  of  all  that  passed  between 
them.  After  the  dessert  he  summoned  a  brawny 
German  deaconess  dressed  in  black,  with  a 
white  coif  and  Red  Cross  armlets.  She  took 


Into  France  239 

Lucy  for  a  half  hour's  rest,  while  the  men 
went  to  see  that  the  car  was  ready.  Soldier 
mechanics  were  carefully  overhauling  the  engine 
and  running  gear.  A  staff  car  whirled  up  out 
of  the  darkness,  with  Lucy's  elderly  French 
maid,  Marcelle,  cowering  between  a  pair  of 
young  aides  in  the  tonneau. 

All  too  soon  for  Thorpe,  Lucy  appeared  with 
her  duenna,  the  German  amazon  deaconess. 
Framed  about  by  the  dark  wrap  that  covered 
her  nurse's  coif,  the  girl's  face  looked  very 
white.  But  she  flung  a  reassuring  greeting 
to  Marcelle,  who  had  been  transferred  to  the 
tonneau  of  her  car,  and  smiled  with  seeming 
cheerfulness  as  she  gave  a  hand  to  each  of 
her  anxious  friends. 

"  Good-by!  Don't  worry.  —  Yes,  I'll  soon  be 
back,  Kurt.  —  Take  care  of  yourself,  Lan." 

Thorpe  felt  her  hand  cling  lingeringly  in  his 
palm.  He  gave  her  a  comrade-like  pat  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Buck  up  —  and  keep  going,  as  I  told  you," 
he  muttered.  "  After  the  war  Kurt  can  come 
to  you." 

She  drew  her  hand  away  and  sprang  up 
into  the  driver's  seat.  Kurt  had  turned  to 
her  escort.  He  spoke  rapidly,  in  German: 

"  Herr  Captain,  the  fraulein  is  an  intimate 
friend  of  my  mother.  I  have  asked  her  to 
be  my  wife.  You  will  do  me  the  courtesy  of 
seeing  that  she  is  treated  with  utmost  respect." 

11  Ja.  Excellent  has  so  ordered,"  replied  the 
captain. 

He  swung  in  beside  Lucy,  leaving  Marcelle 


240  The  Blond  Beast 

alone  in  the  tonneau.  The  engine  hegan  to 
purr.  A  last  glance  and  wave  from  Lucy,  and 
the  car  shot  away  into  the  night. 

An  orderly  showed  the  friends  to  the  mag- 
nificent and  as  yet  unvandalized  bedchamber 
assigned  to  their  use. 

Between  exhaustion  from  the  stress  of  that 
fearful  day,  and  the  shred  of  comfort  given  by 
the  aide's  parting  assurance,  Thorpe  fell  asleep 
while  trying  to  picture  Lucy's  night  ride  across 
the  battle  front.  In  that  mad  chaos  of  death 
there  might  well  be  peril  awaiting  her  —  a  shot 
from  an  over-zealous  picket,  the  devilish  leaden 
spray  of  a  machine-gun,  a  chance  shell.  But 
Von  Hausen  had  spoken  of  a  gap  in  the  French 
lines,  and  there  was  the  escort  captain  to  safe- 
guard the  car  past  the  German  out-posts . . . 

Dawn  brought  a  day  of  brooding  inaction  for 
Thorpe,  of  joyful  activity  to  Kurt.  All  behind 
the  German  front  there  was  a  furious  rushing 
up  of  guns  and  munitions,  and  hurried  attempts 
to  maneuver  and  tactically  mass  the  excess  of 
troops. 

Stray  bit?  of  information  leaked  out  or  were 
openly  announced  at  General  Headquarters.  Up 
the  Meuse  on  the  line  to  Verdun,  Wurttemberg 
and  the  Crown  Prince  had  not  smashed  through 
the  French  armies,  after  all.  The  Engldnder 
schweine  were  not  yet  penned  up.  They  were 
running  away  too  fast.  But  at  Cambrai  Von 
Kluck's  flanking  corps  would  sweep  around  and 
slaughter  them  all.  Then  he  would  crumple  up 
the  exposed  left  flank  of  the  French. 

Everywhere    was    victory.      On    the    Alsace- 


Into  France  241 

Lorraine  front  the  French  had  been  defeated 
at  Deuz  and  Neufchatel,  and  Luneville  was  cap- 
tured. Forty  million  dollars  had  been  levied 
from  Brussels.  The  little  Belgian  army,  now 
split  off  from  all  hope  of  junction  with  the 
French,  was  being  driven  back  on  Antwerp. 
At  all  points  the  invincible,  scientific  German 
armies  had  more  and  bigger  guns  and  a  decided 
superiority  in  men,  alike  as  to  numbers,  train- 
ing and  equipment.  —  Ja,  ja,  Sedan  Day  should 
see  the  French  armies  crushed  and  the  Crown 
Prince  riding  into  Paris! 

Thorpe  believed  this  prediction  no  less  firmly 
than  did  all  the  German  officers  about  him.  He 
saw  a  map  on  which  pins  showed  the  tremen- 
dous swoop  of  Von  Kluck's  army  corps  south- 
westward  from  Brussels.  Their  van  was  already 
rounding  the  flank  into  the  rear  of  the  positions 
marked  for  the  British  tip  of  the  French  left 
wing. 

On  Wednesday,  August  the  twenty-sixth,  Von 
Hausen's  and  Von  Billow's  armies  crashed  for- 
ward again  all  along  the  line  from  Givet  to 
Cambrai.  The  forts  at  Givet  were  taken.  The 
immense  French  fortress  of  Maubeuge,  on  the 
Sambre,  a  few  miles  south  of  Mons,  was  invested 
and  left  until  the  great  howitzers  could  be 
brought  up  to  repeat  the  frightful  destruction 
they  had  wrought  at  Liege  and  Namur. 

Before  the  massive  impact  of  the  invading 
armies,  the  French  were  driven  back  but  not 
routed.  On  the  contrary,  they  struck  a  terrific 
flanking  blow  at  the  immense  concentration  of 
German  corps  that  were  being  hurled  at  the 


242  The  Blond  Beast 

British.  And  the  British,  attacked  again  as 
at  Mons  by  five  times  their  number,  again 
fought  their  way  clear,  and  in  turn  saved  the 
French  wing  before  Von  Kluck  could  trap  them 
with  his  southward  rushing  horde. 

At  General  Headquarters  Thorpe  heard  much 
cursing  when  word  was  received  that  the  Eng- 
Idnder  schweine  had  once  more  escaped  annihi- 
lation. Kurt  was  challenged  by  half  a  dozen 
furious  young  fellow  aides  merely  for  remark- 
ing that  the  British  must  be  good  soldiers.  The 
duels  were  averted  only  by  the  veto  of  the  High 
Commander,  to  whom  the  usual  officers'  court 
of  honor  referred  the  matter. 

"  Donnerwetter!  To  kill  each  other,  so  long 
as  there  is  a  Frenchman  alive  —  nein!  nein! . . . 
The  disloyal  talk  of  Lieutenant  von  Kissel?  — 
Ach,  I  will  show  what  I  think  of  that  boy." 

The  "show"  came  at  an  inspection  of  the 
Imperial  Guard  Corps,  which  was  still  re-form- 
ing in  the  rear  of  the  battle  front.  Before 
the  rigidly  saluting  Von  Pappheim  and  his  com- 
pany and  the  regimental  officers,  an  order  was 
read  citing  Lieutenant  von  Kissel  for  his  brave 
rescue  of  the  captain,  and  announcing  his  pro- 
motion to  a  first  lieutenancy.  The  High  Com- 
mander with  his  own  hands  then  pinned  the 
Iron  Cross  on  the  breast  of  the  blushing,  gulp- 
ing hero. 

After  this  there  were  no  more  black  looks 
and  sneering  smiles  at  the  new  aide  of  the 
High  Commander.  Instead,  both  Ober-lieuten- 
ant  von  Kissel  and  his  Americanisch  friend 
came  in  for  all  the  pleasant  attentions  at  Gen- 


Into  France  243 

eral  Headquarters  that  the  rush  and  hurly- 
burly  of  the  advance  would  permit. 

Thorpe  could  not  have  brought  himself  to 
the  point  of  currying  favor.  But  he  did  not 
go  out  of  his  way  to  avoid  it.  He  tried  to 
be  wise  in  his  generation.  The  better  the 
impression  he  made  on  the  entourage  of  the 
High  Commander,  the  better  his  chance  of  sav- 
ing Lucy  from  her  cruel  dilemma  —  if  she 
returned.  That  she  would  attempt  to  come  back 
he  had  not  the  slightest  doubt.  His  fervent 
hope  was  that  the  French  would  stop  her.  But 
this  was  qualified  by  the  acute  dread  that  their 
interference  might  turn  on  the  discovery  that 
she  was  acting  as  a  spy. 

With  the  advance  of  the  armies,  General 
Headquarters  also  were  moved  forward.  Kurt's 
modest  share  in  the  loot  of  the  chateau  was 
a  fine  rosewood  piano  for  Elsa  and  a  set  of 
magnificent  furs  for  the  mother.  As  Thorpe 
saw  the  carefully  labeled  boxes  trundled  off 
towards  Germany  in  Bed  Cross  trucks,  along 
with  the  other  plunder  from  the  burning  cha- 
teau, he  suddenly  realized  how  little  he  had 
been  thinking  of  the  deliciously  sweet  fraulein 
to  whom  he  was  all  but  betrothed. 

Throughout  the  fearfully  eventful  hours  and 
days  since  their  parting,  his  mind  had  been 
glutted  with  the  horrors  of  war  —  of  fire  and 
massacre,  fighting,  pillaging,  slaughter.  And 
to  this  frightfulness  had  been  added  the  black 
dread  of  danger  to  Lucy.  Was  not  that  suffi- 
cient explanation  why  he  had  so  forgotten  all 
else  in  the  world  —  even  the  adorable,  darling 


244  The  Blond  Beast 

girl  who  had  parted  from  him  so  reluctantly? 

But  now  that  he  remembered,  he  hastened 
to  write  her  a  long  and  loving  letter.  Con- 
sideration for  her  feelings  made  impossible  any 
mention  of  the  massacres  of  civilians  and 
wounded  and  the  outrages  upon  women  and 
girls  that  had  accompanied  the  advance  of  the 
gray  host  of  Majestdt.  Still  more  unthinkable 
was  any  reference  to  the  defilement  of  the  few 
villas  and  chateaux  left  unburned. 

After  this  first  letter,  Thorpe  wrote  three 
or  four  more,  one  for  each  day  of  the  cyclonic 
advance  down  into  France.  But  he  omitted  to 
mention  the  frightful  fate  of  the  frontier  village 
where  she  and  the  mother  had  been  detained 
by  the  courteous  little  captain  of  Territorials. 

All  the  officers  and  men  of  Von  Hausen's 
forward  driving  columns  were  wildly  jubilant. 
The  fat  of  the  land  was  theirs  for  the  taking, 
and  they  took  with  both  hands  —  wine  and  jel- 
lies, poultry  and  jewels;  also  women  when  they 
pleased  —  ladies  for  the  officers,  village  and 
peasant  girls  for  the  men.  Wine,  women  and 
war  —  what  more  could  be  asked?  "  To  suffer 
is  strengthening;  to  inflict  suffering  is  more 
strengthening."  Hurrah  for  the  blond  beasts 
of  Nietzsche! 

But  at  the  shifting  General  Headquarters, 
all  was  not  merry.  Why  did  not  the  sly  French 
rats  stand  and  fight,  so  that  they  might  be 
hacked  to  pieces?  But  no,  they  must  fall  back 
and  fall  back;  and  Von  Kluck  was  still  stretch- 
ing his  legs  off  to  outflank  the  Engldnder 
schweine,  who  kept  shooting  down  windrows  of 


Into  France  245 

good  cannon-fodder  with  their  hellish  rifle  fire 
and  then  falling  back,  also  —  the  cowards!  — 
instead  of  waiting  to  be  surrounded  and  smashed 
by  five  times  their  number.  All  history  told 
that  the  frothy  French  were  good  at  attack. 
But  this  steady  retreat,  retreat,  retreat,  with 
no  break  in  their  armies,  no  sign  of  rout  —  it 
was  most  unnatural  —  it  was  trying  to  the 
nerves  of  even  a  Teuton  High  Commander  and 
his  no-less  phlegmatic  scientific  staff  officers. 

On  the  last  days  of  August  the  electric  ten- 
sion was  broken  by  a  double  stroke  of  French 
lightning.  In  the  Ardennes  a  sudden  stiffen- 
ing of  the  enemy's  rear,  guard  held  up  the 
Saxons  of  Von  Hausen's  left,  while  Sarrail 
hurled  the  great  army  of  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Wurttemberg  back  over  the  Meuse  in  disorder. 
At  the  same  time  the  Imperial  Prussian  Guard, 
now  on  Von  Hausen's  right  with  Von  Billow's 
Hanoverians,  were  struck  a  crashing  blow  on 
the  flank  and  driven  back  over  the  Oise,  their 
ranks  almost  as  badly  cut  up  as  at  Givet. 

The  reverses  brought  chagrin  to  the  German 
line,  and  grim  smiles  to  General  Headquarters. 
— Good!  The  impetuous  French  fools  would 
now  hold  in  the  center  while  Von  Kluck  swept  on 
in  his  terrific  flanking  rush.  First  the  annoying 
little  army  of  devilish  British  sharpshooters,  who 
had  saved  the  French  left  from  envelopment; 
then  a  big  swing  around  behind  the  French,  and, 
kaput!  the  big  game  also  bagged.  What  more 
simple  I 

Hardly  were  the  Guards  flung  back  when  Von 
Kluck 's  van  reached  Amiens.  All  hope  of  the 


246  The  Blond  Beast 

Britishers  to  escape  annihilation  was  now  past. . . 
With  this  good  news  came  the  report  of  three 
whole  .Russian  army  corps  destroyed  or  captured 
in  the  Masurian  Marshes;  also  a  report  that 
Deutschland 's  new  allies,  the  Americans,  were 
helping  to  defend  her  Chinese  possessions  against 
the  Japanese. 

Thorpe  smiled  neither  at  the  real  news  nor  at 
the  canard.  He  was  far  too  concerned  over 
Kurt's  insistence  upon  leaving  the  staff.  Zealous 
to  share  in  the  final  drive  that  was  to  make  an 
end  of  France,  Ober-lieutenant  von  Kissel  had 
applied  for  a  vacancy  created  in  his  own  com- 
pany by  the  enemy.  Excellenz  approved  such 
high  spirit.  Kurt  went  back  to  the  line,  and 
with  him  went  Thorpe,  still  under  parole  not  to 
escape. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
A  NIGHT  SURPRISE 

Back  to  Berlin  flashed  glowing  reports  of  how 
at  last  the  net  was  really  closing  about  the  hard- 
driven  quarry.  And  while  all  Germany  drew  in 
breath  after  the  Masurian  victory-cry  to  shout 
the  triumph  in  France,  the  pig-headed  Englisher 
dogs  must  go  and  break  through  again  out  of 
the  St.  Quentin  snare,  leaving  their  usual 
memento  of  high-heaped  Deutsch  cannon-fodder. 

Worse  still,  the  unobliging  French  must  con- 
tinue to  fall  back  in  line  with  their  hateful  flank 
guard.  How  was  the  scientific  German  High 
Command  to  display  its  strategy  if  the  enemy 
did  not  act  as  had  been  scientifically  forecast? 
To  add  insult  to  injury,  the  enemy  continually 
fought  strong  rear  guard  actions  that  tantalized 
with  the  promise  of  the  final  death  grapple,  yet 
always  ended  in  another  retreat. 

At  the  crossing  of  the  Aisne,  on  the  way  to 
Rheims,  the  uhlan  scouts  of  the  leading  Guard 
column  were  ambushed  by  Turcos  left  to  defend 
the  half-destroyed  bridge.  The  sun  had  set.  To 
win  the  bridgehead  before  dark,  Kurt's  regiment 
charged  across  the  stream  without  waiting  for  a 
bombardment  to  clear  the  way.  The  Turcos  fled 
with  the  haste  of  stampeded  cattle.  Such  a 

247 


248  The  Blond  Beast 

weak  defense  —  such  a  panic-stricken  flight  — 
here  at  last  was  certain  proof  that  the  enemy 
had  become  demoralized  by  continuously  retreat- 
ing before  the  tidal  wave  of  Deutschland's  invin- 
cible host. 

The  bulk  of  the  Prussian  column  contentedly 
bivouaced  on  the  north  side  of  the  stream,  while 
their  engineers  repaired  the  bridge.  Kurt's  regi- 
ment threw  forward  a  picket  line,  and  settled 
down  for  the  night  in  the  deserted  hamlet  on 
the  south  bank.  Thorpe  helped  the  other  Red 
Cross  men  gather  up  the  few  Prussian  wounded 
and  bring  them  to  the  tiny  mairie.  There  were 
no  Turco  wounded  —  after  the  Guards  were  done 
with  them. 

A  long  day's  march  beside  Kurt  had  already 
tired  Thorpe.  At  the  end  of  his  stretcher  work, 
instead  of  going  to  officers'  mess,  as  usual,  he 
took  a  sandwich  supper  in  company  with  the 
portly  surgeon,  requisitioned  a  "  feather  bed," 
and  sought  rest  on  the  floor  of  the  mairie  attic. 
He  was  shivering  from  the  damp  cold  of  the 
September  nightfall  that  had  followed  the  intense 
smothering  heat  of  the  day.  But,  rolled  in  the 
voluminous  softness  of  the  wide  mattress,  he 
soon  glowed  into  soporific  warmth. 

Either  his  sleep  was  very  heavy  or  a  thick 
corner  of  the  feather-filled  mattress  muffled  his 
ears.  Bedlam  was  raging  around  the  mairie 
before  he  heard  and  roused  up ...  There  was  no 
mistaking  those  panther  yells  that  rose  above 
the  rattle-clack  of  machine-guns  and  irregular 
reports  of  rifles.  The  wild  Turcos  had  doubled 
back  to  strike  the  head  of  the  Guard  column. 


A  Night  Surprise  249 

Thorpe  jerked  on  the  officer's  walking  boots 
that  had  been  procured  for  him  by  Kurt,  caught 
up  his  surgeon's  coat,  and  groped  across  the 
attic  to  the  ladder-like  stairway.  He  came  down 
into  the  lamp-lit  improvised  hospital  ward  just 
in  time  to  see  the  portly  surgeon-major,  booted 
but  trouserless,  bolt  out  through  the  street  door- 
way. All  his  assistants  had  gone  before.  Thorpe 
started  to  dash  after  him,  but  stopped  short. 

Of  the  wounded  Prussians,  only  those  were 
left  whose  injuries  made  futile  any  attempt  to 
escape.  Several  had  struggled  half  erect  on 
their  straw  heaps  and  were  shrieking  in  terrified 
anticipation  of  the  fate  they  had  so  often  meted 
out  to  the  French  injured.  Thorpe  flung  on  his 
coat  and  turned  back  to  quiet  the  panic. 

The  furious  din  of  yells  and  clashing  steel 
was  already  sweeping  past  the  front  of  the 
mairie.  A  pair  of  Turcos  burst  in  from  the 
street,  one  with  bayonet  out-thrust  before  the 
crimsoning  sabre  slash  down  the  front  of  his 
yellow  tunic,  the  other  with  dagger  upraised 
above  his  fezless  black  head.  They  glared 
ferociously. 

Thorpe  flung  up  his  hands.  "  Blesses!  "  he 
cried.  "  La  croix  rouge!  —  Docteur!  ' 

Both  Turcos  leaped  at  him  with  weapons 
brandished.  Certain  that  his  last  moment  had 
come,  he  clenched  his  fists.  At  least  he  would 
not  die  like  a  sheep.  The  possibility  of  a  chance 
flashed  into  his  abnormally  active  brain. 

"  Neutral  —  Americain!  "  he  shouted. 

The  fezless  Turco  yelled  to  his  mate.  They 
bounded  to  each  side  of  Thorpe  and  on  around 


250  The  Blond  Beast 

him,  before  he  could  retreat.  He  whirled  to  face 
them.  An  instant  later  he  was  reeling  back- 
wards towards  the  street  door  before  their 
menacing  weapons.  As  he  stumbled  on  the 
threshold,  there  was  a  rush  outside.  Wiry  hands 
gripped  his  arms  and  dragged  him  swiftly  off 
up  the  night-shrouded  street,  away  from  the 
wild  flashing  and  flaring  of  shots,  the  yells  and 
shrieks  and  furious  in-fighting  of  the  surprise 
attack. 

Thorpe'made  no  attempt  to  struggle  or  hang 
back.  He  could  feel  the  prickle  of  a  dagger-point 
at  the  nape  of  his  neck.  Behind  and  overhead 
bright  lights  glared  out.  The  Prussians  were 
sending  up  rockets  from  across  the  Aisne.  At 
once  three-inch  shells  began  to  burst  all  in  and 
around  the  village.  Thorpe  lengthened  his  stride. 
He  realized  he  was  now  in  more  danger  from 
the  Prussians  than  from  his  captors. 

As  he  fled  from  the  bombardment  in  the  midst 
of  the  little  squad  that  had  taken  him  prisoner, 
he  conjectured  that  the  Turcos  had  stealthily 
killed  or  captured  the  Prussian  pickets,  and  then 
rushed  the  village  before  the  regiment  could 
form  ranks.  Triumphant  yells  told  that  the  half- 
armed  Prussians  were  being  driven  into  the 
river.  But  the  absence  of  up-rushing  reserves 
led  Thorpe  to  believe  the  attack  no  more  than 
a  show  of  force  —  a  bluff  to  hold  up  the  advance 
of  the  invading  column. 

The  Turco  squad  raced  on  out  of  the  village 
and  between  untrampled  fields  to  the  shelter  of 
a  wood.  Here  they  sagged  from  top  speed  into 
a  jog  trot.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  a  "  Qui 


A  Night  Surprise  251 

vive?  "  brought  them  up  short.  One  advanced 
and  gave  the  password.  After  that  followed 
another  jog  of  a  mile  or  two,  and  another  chal- 
lenge ;  then  on  a  little  way  farther  to  a  lone  inn, 
before  which  a  bunch  of  saddled  horses  were 
munching  wheat  from  the  nearby  field. 

A  muttered  word  at  the  door,  and  Thorpe  — 
panting,  sweating,  reeling  from  exhaustion  —  was 
thrust  into  a  candle-lit  taproom.  At  the  table 
a  major  of  Turcos  was  supping  upon  dainty 
French  sandwiches.  As  he  caught  sight  of 
Thorpe's  clean-shaven  face,  surgeon's  coat  and 
civilian  trousers,  his  thin  aristocratic  face  lighted 
with  a  gracious  smile. 

"  A  thousand  pardons  that  monsieur  has  been 
hurried,"  he  apologized  in  faultless  English. 
"  Pray  be  seated." 

Thorpe  dropped  into  a  chair,  with  a  gasp: 
' '  Whew!  Thanks  —  awfully !  " 

The  major  bowed.  "  Pardon  me,  but  have  I 
not  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Monsieur  Allan 
Thorpe?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm — "  Thorpe  paused  to  muster  a 
responsive  smile  —  "  I  hope  it's  a  real  pleasure, 
sir." 

The  officer  rose.  "  Request  is  made  that 
monsieur  give  his  parole  he  will  not  attempt  to 
escape. '  * 

Thorpe  stared  in  sudden  dismay. 

"  If  Loo  is  —  has  returned!  "  he  gasped,  and 
he  flung  out  his  hand  in  desperate  appeal. 
"  Major,  I'm  only  a  neutral,  a  Red  Cross  volun- 
teer. Permit  me  to  rejoin  the  Guard  ambulance! 
I  gave  my  word  to  the  High  Commander.  I 


252  The  Blond  Beast 

have  the  hest  of  reasons.    I  —  I  must  go  back!  " 

"  Monsieur  has  not  broken  his  word  to  the 
barbarian  general.  He  has  been  taken  prisoner. 
The  circumstances  are  known  to  me.  As  an 
officer  and  gentleman,  I  assure  monsieur  that  the 
obligation  to  his  honor  has  been  removed.  A 
surprise  awaits  him.  Will  he  now  give  his 
parole  not  to  return,  or  must  force  be  required 
to  detain  him!  " 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  give  me  the  alterna- 
tive, sir;  but  —  there's  something  else.  Even  if 
it  means  shooting,  I'm  bound  to  break  away  if 
I  can." 

The  major  called  in  half  a  dozen  swarthy 
Turcos,  spoke  to  them  in  their  own  language, 
bowed  regretfully,  and  passed  out  at  the  side 
door.  The  men  closed  around  Thorpe.  Resist- 
ance would  have  been  futile.  He  stood  still  while 
they  bound  his  hands  behind  him.  He  was  taken 
out,  placed  upon  a  horse,  and  started  off  between 
a  pair  of  mounted  men. 

At  midnight  his  guards  stopped  at  an  inn 
before  which  he  made  out  the  dim  bulk  of  a  big 
touring  car. 

"  Headquarters  —  third  degree  for  mine,*'  he 
muttered.  "  I  thought  that  Frenchman  was  a 
bit  too  polite." 

One  of  the  Turcos  went  in.  After  a  brief 
delay  he  came  out  to  help  lift  the  prisoner  down 
from  the  saddle  and  push  him,  still  bound, 
through  the  doorway.  As  Thorpe  stood  blinking 
in  the  bright  light,  a  joyful  voice  cried  at  his 
shoulder : 

1  *  Oh,  Lan !    So  he  has  caught  you  —  at  last !  ' ' 


A  Night  Surprise  253 

He  jerked  half  around  to  gape  at  the  smiling 
radiant-eyed  girl  who  was  reaching  out  to  clasp 
his  bound  arm. 

"  Loo!  You  here  —  and  safe!. .  .But  are  you? 
Have  they  —  are  they  holding  you  too!  " 

She  made  a  gesture  to  the  nearest  Turco.  The 
man  drew  his  dagger,  cut  the  cords  that  held 
Thorpe's  arms,  and  stalked  out  with  his  swarthy 
mate. 

"  What's  the  answer?  "  rallied  the  girl  as  she 
steadied  Thorpe  to  a  chair.  "  But  I'll  not  tease 
you,  Lan.  You  look  as  if  you'd  been  pulled 
through  a  knothole.  To  give  you  the  headlines: 
"When  that  cruel  General  von  Hausen  sent  me 
south,  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  run  across 
Polly's  husband,  the  Duke  of  Montmar.  He's  a 
major  of  Turcos,  you  know." 

"  Major?  Then  it  must  be  he  who... Tall, 
thin-faced,  aristocratic?  " 

"  Of  course. .  .You  see,  as  he  was  Polly's  hus- 
band, I  told  him  everything  —  how  Von  Hausen 
forced  me  to  come  as  a  spy  by  keeping  you  for 
hostage.  So  Etienne  passed  the  word  along  to 
watch  out  for  you.  He  felt  sure  you  would  be 
rescued  at  the  Oise.  I  was  so  disappointed.  But 
better  late  than  never.  Isn't  it  glorious  that 
you've  escaped!  " 

* '  Out  of  the  frying  pan  into  the  fire, ' '  qualified 
Thorpe. 

"  Never  think  of  it,  Lan.  These  French  are 
human  beings,  not  Supermen.  They  do  not  shoot 
prisoners  or  bayonet  the  German  wounded." 

Thorpe  was  about  to  repeat  German  counter- 
accusations  of  atrocities  by  the  French.  In 


254  The  Blond  Beast 

particular,  savage  tales  about  the  ferocity  of  the 
Turcos  were  current  in  the  German  ranks.  Yet 
he  recalled  how,  in  the  mairie,  his  fight-heated 
captors  had  refrained  from  killing  a  single 
injured  Prussian. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  he  replied?  "  The 
point  is,  I'm  now  doubly  a  prisoner." 

"  Oh,  no.  I've  told  you  Etienne  understands. 
I  gave  him  my  word  you  had  done  no  more  than 
help  in  Eed  Cross  work  and  that  you  would  not 
act  as  a  spy  for  the  Germans  if  released  from 
them  and  set  free.  Haven't  you  still  your  pass- 
port with  the  French  vise?  Etienne  allowed  me 
to  keep  my  car,  on  condition  that  I  give  it  up 
at  Paris.  Our  ambassador  is  giving  out  money 
and  tickets.  All  we  need  do  is  make  for  England, 
where  we  can  get  a  steamer  home.  Etienne 
advises  that  we  get  clear  away  from  the 
Germans." 

A  quick  reproof  passed  Thorpe's  lips  before 
he  could  check  it:  "  You  seem  to  have  made  a 
sudden  hit  with  —  Etienne. ' ' 

Lucy  lowered  her  dark  lashes  to  veil  the 
sparkle  in  her  lovely  green  eyes.  '  *  Oh  —  Etienne 
—  he  is  simply  charming!  Such  kindness  and 
perfect  manners!  " 

Thorpe  believed  himself  speaking  in  a  tone 
of  brotherly  admonition:  "  Don't  forget  the 
man  is  French  —  and  the  husband  of  your 
friend. ' ' 

11  How  could  It  "  queried  Lucy,  masking  a 
smile.  "  You  should  see  the  bulging  envelopeful 
of  envy  and  covetousness  I've  written  to  Polly. 
Etienne  is  a  —  a  Chevalier  Bayard,  brave  as  a 


A  Night  Surprise  255 

lion,  gentle  as  a  dove.  After  such  un-French 
officers  as  Von  Pappheim,  I  have  found  him 
irresistibly  fascinating.  —  You  haven't  yet  told 
me  about  Kurt." 

The  abrupt  shift  threw  into  Thorpe's  mind  a 
spotlight  that  shone  through  the  flimsy  mask  of 
his  self-deception.  The  mention  of  Kurt  inevita- 
bly brought  up  the  image  of  Elsa.  He  flushed 
hotly  in  the  vivid  realization  that  his  concern 
over  Lucy's  interest  in  the  Duke  of  Montmar  had 
not  been  based  altogether  on  brotherly  feeling. 
He  sought  to  rally. 

11  I  don't  understand  about  your  Bayard,  but 
Kurt  is  what  you  dubbed  him  —  a  Sir  Galahad. 
You  know  how  he  saved  Von  Pappheim  from  the 
Turcos —  " 

"  With  your  help,"  murmured  Lucy. 

' '  No,  he  was  leading  man  —  the  whole  show. 
I  merely  acted  as  a  supe.  It  has  already  won 
him  the  Iron  Cross.  And  since  then... He  has 
the  bad  habit  of  leading,  instead  of  driving  his 
men.  If  only  he  escaped  those  savage  Turcos 
to-night!  " 

' '  Indeed,  yes !  ' '  exclaimed  Lucy.  But  after 
a  moment's  pause,  she  remarked  in  her  old-time 
ironic  tone:  "  Let  us  not  forget  that  those  Turco 
savages  have  pulled  you  out  of  the  frying  pan, 
and  so  saved  me  the  annoyance  of  jumping 
back  in." 

Thorpe  stared.  "  You  can't  mean,  Loo,  that 
you  really  intended  to  carry  out  that  fool  notion 
of  going  back?  I  gathered  that  Polly's  husband 
put  his  foot  down  on  it." 

"  Not  at  all.    He  merely  required  me  to  wait 


256  The  Blond  Beast 

while  the  effort  was  being  made  to  rescue  yon. 
To-morrow  I  was  to  race  down  to  Montmar  for 
those  miserable  snapshots;  then  back  here,  to 
wait  for  the  Boches,  with  a  notebook  full  of 
information  that  the  French  wish  to  fall  into 
their  hands." 

"  Information  that  the  French  wished. .  .You'd 
have  done  that  —  would  have  double-crossed  the 
High  Commander?  " 

"  Didn't  he  force  me  to  try  to  spy  on  the 
French?  " 

"  But  —  but  the  danger  you'd  have  been  in  if 
you'd  tried  it!  Good  Lord,  Loo!  Haven't  you 
any  sense  ?  All  you  need  have  done  was  to  streak 
for  home,  as  I  told  you." 

Lucy  quivered  at  the  acute  concern  in  his  look 
and  tone,  but  bit  her  red  lip  and  replied  tartly: 

"  I  have  at  least  a  sense  of  obligation.  Your 
getting  into  that  mess  was  all  because  of  me. 
The  least  I  could  do  was  to  get  you  out.  Besides, 
every  bit  of  information  was  to  be  absolutely 
accurate.  If  the  facts  were  so  selected  that  the 
Boches  drew  wrong  inferences,  they'd  have  had 
no  excuse  to  blame  me  for  their  stupidity. 
Etienne's  first  thought  was  for  my  safety.  Won't 
it  be  great  fun  teasing  Polly  about  it  when  we 
get  home?  " 

Thorpe  forced  a  laugh. 

"  Ripping!  —  Let's  hop  into  your  go-cart  and 
hit  the  high  places.  Where's  Marcelle?  We 
have  no  time  to  hang  around.  Von  Kluck  may 
already  have  cut  us  off  from  Paris.  I'm  going 
to  ship  you  out  of  France  before  everything 
falls  to  pieces." 


A  Mght  Surprise  257 

"  You'll  sail  with  me,  Lan?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  go  with  you,"  muttered  Thorpe. 

"  How  absurd!  Even  if  I  have  to  leave 
Marcelle —  such  times  as  these,  to  fuss  over 
conventionalities!  " 

"What!... But  it's  not  that  at  all.  You 
remember,  I  gave  my  word  to  the  High  Com- 
mander. As  long  as  I've  been  brought  here 
forcibly,  I  feel  that  I  have  the  right  to  see  you 
safe  aboard  ship.  Then,  of  course,  it's  up  to  me 
to  come  back  and  keep  my  parole." 

All  the  rich  color  fled  from  Lucy's  cheeks. 

"  Lan  —  You  can't  mean  it?  Why,  it's 
really  absurd!  I  know  you  gave  Von  Hausen 
your  word  not  to  try  to  escape.  You  didn't 
escape.  You  were  taken  prisoner.  You  still  are 
a  prisoner.  A  prisoner  had  a  perfect  right  to 
accept  parole.  You  will  give  me  your  word,  or 
you  shall  be  imprisoned.  Etienne  will  do  just 
what  I  ask  of  him." 

"  Well,  it's  true  he  told  me  it  would  not  be 
breaking  my  word  to  the  general.  I  believe  he  is 
right,  providing  I  stay  in  France." 

"  That  settles  it.  Write  a  note  to  Etienne 
accepting  parole.  I  shall  call  Marcelle.  You 
will  leave  the  note  here,  and  we'll  motor  into 
Rheims.  It's  only  three  or  four  miles." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
A  FATEFUL  MEETING 

A  few  moments  after  Lucy  left  Thorpe,  a 
servant  brought  him  a  bottle  of  light  wine,  bread, 
and  writing  materials.  Lucy  soon  returned  with 
the  blinking  Marcelle,  two  suitcases,  and  a 
civilian  coat.  Upon  the  sleeves  of  the  coat, 
mistress  and  maid  promptly  began  to  sew  French 
Bed  Cross  emblems. 

"  Now  change  coats,"  ordered  Lucy.  "  We'll 
take  the  surgeon's  jacket  along  as  a  curiosity. 
Soldiers  are  bringing  all  kinds  of  queer  trophies 
from  the  front." 

The  food  and  drink  had  so  refreshed  Thorpe 
that  he  insisted  upon  driving.  With  a  stately 
Turco  orderly  at  his  side  to  answer  the  chal- 
lenges of  French  patrols  and  sentries,  he  motored 
Lucy  and  her  maid  into  Bheims.  The  city  was 
undefended,  as  the  French  had  already  evacuated 
the  forts.  But  instead  of  hastening  on  towards 
Paris,  Lucy  chose  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the 
night  at  a  hotel.  The  Turco  returned  to  his 
command. 

As  the  party  sat  at  a  none  too  early  breakfast, 
word  came  that  Prussian  uhlans  were  entering 
the  city.  Lucy  ordered  out  her  car.  Before  a 
start  could  be  made,  reports  were  received  that 

258 


A  Fateful  Meeting  259 

other  German  columns  farther  west  had  already 
flooded  in  between  Rheims  and  Paris.  Lucy 
directed  Thorpe  to  head  south,  parallel  with  the 
French-wrecked  railway. 

At  Epernay,  where  the  party  crossed  the  Marne 
about  mid-afternoon,  they  fell  in  with  a  force 
of  French  troops.  The  commander  approved  the 
pass  given  by  the  Duke  of  Montmar,  but  promptly 
requisitioned  the  services  of  herself,  Thorpe,  the 
maid  and  the  car  for  hospital  use.  She  and 
Marcelle  joined  the  Sisters  of  Mercy  who  were 
nursing  those  of  the  French  wounded  that  had 
been  brought  to  this  part  of  the  Marne  in  the 
Great  Retreat. 

Thorpe  was  set  to  motoring  injured  officers  on 
south  across  the  summer-dried  Marshes  of  St. 
Gond  and  up  past  the  Castle  of  Montmar  to 
Sezanne.  He  was  astonished  to  find  the  French 
soldiers  far  other  than  the  demoralized,  dis- 
integrating mob  that  he  had  expected.  For  over 
two  weeks  they  had  been  hurled  back  by  that 
tremendous  gray  flood  of  invaders.  They  had 
suffered  defeat  after  defeat.  They  were  wonder- 
struck  over  the  endless  myriads  of  their  enemies. 
Yet  now  they  contemptuously  asserted  that  les 
Allemands  were  stupid  clumsy  brutes  who  could 
not  shoot  and  who  dreaded  the  bayonet. 

Though  Thorpe  far  from  agreed  with  the 
slighting  opinion  of  the  Frenchmen,  it  compelled 
him  to  realize  the  marvelous  morale  of  these 
troops  that  the  Germans  considered  as  good  as 
bagged.  After  all  these  days  of  hard  fighting 
and  no  less  hard  marching,  after  being  flanked 
or  flooded  back  for  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty 


260  The  Blond  Beast 

miles,  the  best  of  troops  might  well  have  been 
disheartened.  Instead,  every  man  Thorpe  saw 
was  aquiver  with  eagerness  for  the  word  to 
turn  and  charge  the  hated  invaders;  every  man 
was  certain  of  victory. 

Even  the  wounded  officers,  with  whom  Thorpe 
talked  on  the  way  to  Sezanne,  were  as  confident 
as  their  uninjured  fellow  officers  and  the  men. 
In  reply  to  his  references  to  the  overwhelming 
numbers  of  the  Germans,  their  superior  training, 
and  highly  scientific  generals,  the  Frenchmen 
merely  smiled  and  shrugged  and  advised  him  to 
wait  a  little  longer  before  he  passed  judgment. 
They  gave  him  no  military  information,  but 
spoke  confidently  of  their  own  General  Foch  and 
of  the  little-known  silent  Commander-in-Chief 
Joffre.  From  this,  no  less  than  from  the  number 
of  troops  that  were  entrenching  in  the  Marshes 
of  St.  Gond  and  on  the  heights  to  the  south, 
Thorpe  surmised  that  the  French  expected  soon 
to  halt  their  line  for  the  last  desperate  struggle 
against  annihilation  by  the  invincible  death-flood 
of  Germans. 

In  the  meantime,  the  countless  gray  columns 
of  the  invaders  were  streaming  on  southward 
with  fearful  rapidity.  Besides  the  larger  part 
of  Belgium,  most  of  the  coal  and  manufacturing 
portion  of  North  France ,  already  lay  crushed 
under  the  iron  heel  of  the  conquerors.  Friday, 
the  fourth  of  September,  found  them  across  the 
Marne  all  the  way  from  Chalons,  west  to  within 
twenty-five  miles  of  Paris. 

Throughout  the  sickening  heat  of  Thursday 
and  the  bleak  dank  chill  of  the  misty  night  that 


A  Fateful  Meeting  261 

followed,  Thorpe  raced  to  and  from  Sezanne 
with  his  car  loads  of  wounded.  Friday  morning 
his  last  return  trip  brought  him  back  to  Epernay 
as  the  uhlans  and  cyclists  of  a  Prussian  column 
raced  each  other  across  the  Marne  bridge  into 
the  town.  He  whirled  the  car  around  before  the 
hospital,  and  dashed  in  to  get  Lucy.  She  refused 
to  leave  without  the  dangerously  wounded  patient 
whom  she  and  Marcelle  were  nursing. 

Thorpe  did  not  stop  to  argue.  He  caught  the 
willful  girl  up  in  his  arms  and  ran  out,  followed 
by  her  maid.  A  dozen  or  more  uhlans  were 
already  within  sight,  trotting  their  horses  up 
from  the  river.  The  car  engine  had  been  left 
running.  Thorpe  sprang  into  the  front  seat, 
gripped  Lucy's  arm  fast  under  his  elbow,  and 
started  the  car  the  instant  that  Marcelle  scram- 
bled into  the  tonneau. 

Back  along  the  street  yelled  a  fierce  view- 
halloo  as  the  uhlans  sighted  the  quarry  and 
came  galloping,  with  lances  ready  to  stab. 
Thorpe  shifted  to  high  and  flung  his  weight  upon 
the  accelerator.  The  big  car  leaped  forward 
like  a  spurred  beast.  Mauser  carbine  bullets 
began  to  zip  and  ping  overhead  like  angry 
hornets. 

The  car  took  the  first  corner  on  two  wheels. 
Thorpe  raced  to  the  next  turn,  eased  around  it, 
and  then  again  applied  the  accelerator.  The 
car  whizzed  southwards  on  the  road  to  Sezanne 
at  a  speed  that  mounted  rapidly  from  thirty  to 
fifty  miles  an  hour.  The  uhlans  were  already 
hopelessly  outdistanced. 

A  meek  voice  quavered  in  Thorpe's  ear:  "  You 


262  The  Blond  Beast 

might  let  go  my  arm,  Lan.  It  must  be  black 
and  blue  —  and  I'm  not  apt  to  jump  out  now." 

He  pushed  back  in  his  seat,  easing  the  grip 
of  his  elbow  that  had  clamped  her  arm  against 
his  side  with  convulsive  force. 

"  You  little  loon,"  he  growled.  "  Think  I'd 
let  them  get  you!  " 

Lucy  patted  her  bruised  arm,  smiled  demurely, 
and  inquired  in  the  same  meek  voice:  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  me,  Lochinvar?  " 

He  frowned  at  such  levity. 

"  I'd  lecture  you  if  I  had  time,"  he  answered 
in  the  same  tone  of  angry  concern.  '  *  The  French 
Government  stampeded  to  Bordeaux  yesterday. 
Looks  as  if  they  have  thrown  up  the  sponge  for 
all  North  France.  They  must  know  Von  Kluck 
isn't  headed  for  Paris.  It  is  heavily  fortified. 
Von  Moltke  would  be  an  idiot  to  allow  the  invest- 
ment of  the  city  before  the  French  armies  are 
crushed.  The  French  soldiers  know  it.  That's 
why  their  troops  nearest  Paris  —  the  British  — 
have  dropped  back  south  and  east  of  the  city." 

"  Von  Moltke?  "  Lucy  repeated  the  harsh 
name.  "  Isn't  he  Chief  of  the  German  General 
Staff?  —  A  scout  who  slipped  through  from 
Eheims  reported  that  he  was  coming  to  Epernay 
with  General  von  Hausen." 

"  Moltke  there?  "  exclaimed  Thorpe.  "  And 
Von  Hausen 's  army  the  strongest  of  all  —  Saxons 
and  the  Imperial  Guard  —  must  be  at  least  two 
hundred  thousand.  No  guess  about  it!  Von 
Kluck 's  attempt  to  flank  has  failed.  They're 
going  to  smash  through  the  French  line  right 
here  in  the  middle.  We  had  better  scoot  past 


A  Fateful  Meeting  263 

Sezanne  and  hit  the  high  places  for  Bordeaux. " 
Joy  sparkled  in  Lucy's  eyes.     She  started  to 
speak,  checked  herself,  and  pressed  her  smiling 
lips  tightly  together. 

A  few  minutes  brought  the  speeding  car  to 
the  marshes.  Thorpe  whirled  on  across  the 
Petit  Morin.  Over  beyond,  at  the  base  of  the 
plateau  slope,  he  swooped  up  on  a  squad  of 
Turcos,  two  of  whom  were  supporting  a  mounted 
officer  in  his  saddle.  They  had  just  turned  into 
a  side  road  that  led  southeastward  towards  Fere 
Champenoise.  Four  or  five  wheeled  about  to 
cover  the  approaching  car  with  their  rifles. 

As  Thorpe  came  to  a  quick  stop,  Lucy  stood 
up  to  gaze  over  the  heads  of  the  grimy  sweaty 
leg-weary  Turcos  at  the  bowed  back  of  their 
wounded  leader. 

"  Etienne!  "  she  called  —  "  Etienne!  " 
In  an  effort  to  straighten  and  look  about,  the 
duke  wrenched  the  bullet  wound  in  his  side.  He 
swooned  into  the  arms  of  the  big  Turco  on  his 
right.  Lucy  sprang  out  and  ordered  him  placed 
in  the  tonneau.  Supported  between  her  and 
Marcelle,  he  was  soon  revived  by  a  stimulant. 
But  the  continued  pallor  of  his  haggard  pain- 
racked  face  told  that  his  wound  was  extremely 
serious.  At  sight  of  the  girl  his  sunken  eyes 
lighted  and  he  forced  a  smile. 

"  Ah,  ma  belle  amie  Lucy!  Bon  jour,"  he 
murmured  feverishly.  "  But  be  pleased  to  return 
me  to  my  saddle.  I  go  to  the  chateau.  You  must 
not  linger  north  of  Sezanne.  The  Boches  come 
quickly.  Be  so  kind  as  to  bear  to  Polie  my  loving 
adieu. ' ' 


264  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Yes,  yes,"  soothed  Lucy.  "  But  first  Mr. 
Thorpe  will  take  us  all  to  Sezanne." 

"Now,)  belle  amie  —  My  horse... This  wound 
is  beyond  surgery. .  .Montmar. .  .1  prefer  to  die 
at  the  chateau." 

"  To  the  chateau,  then.  Have  no  fear  for  my 
safety,  Etienne.  There's  lots  of  time  —  hours 
to  spare." 

The  duke  smiled  his  thanks,  whispered  a  com- 
mand to  his  men,  and  closed  his  eyes.  A  Turco 
sprang  in  beside  Thorpe.  The  others  tramped 
wearily  after  the  car  as  it  swung  around  and  up 
the  side  road  to  the  Castle  of  Montmar. 

In  reply  to  Thorpe's  questions,  his  swarthy 
seat-mate  told  with  vengeful  rage  how  a  large 
patrol  of  Prussians  had  treacherously  wounded 
his  major.  By  using  flags  of  truce,  they  had  lured 
into  a  machine-gun  ambush  the  scant  company 
of  the  duke's  battalion  that  had  survived  their 
night  attack  at  the  Aisne.  Thorpe  bit  his  lip 
with  shame  as  Marcelle  interpreted  the  fiercely 
indignant  account.  He  could  not  doubt  the  act 
of  treachery.  It  was  too  much  in  keeping  with 
what  he  had  seen  of  the  cynical  German  disregard 
for  all  the  accepted  rules  of  warfare  and  the 
Hague  conventions. 

When  the  car  wound  up  the  ascent  to  the 
grand  gateway  of  the  castle  grounds,  the  duke 
revived  from  his  half  swoon  to  lucid  conscious- 
ness. This  lasted  until  he  had  bade  all  his 
servants  and  retainers  a  kindly  farewell  and 
ordered  them  to  seek  safety  in  immediate  flight. 
Though  several  protested  a  wish  to  stay,  all 
obeyed  the  duke's  command  except  an  aged 


A  Fateful  Meeting  265 

couple  who  had  served  him  since  his  babyhood. 

Lucy  insisted  upon  lingering  to  cleanse  and 
rebandage  his  wound.  Two  weeks  all  too  full  of 
experience  had  taught  her  much  about  war 
injuries.  She  came  out  to  Thorpe  with  a  deep 
shadow  in  her  eyes. 

"  Asleep  at  last,"  she  murmured.  "  I  gave 
him  a  hypodermic  to  dull  that  awful  pain.  He 
was  right  about  the  surgeon.  An  operation 
would  only  hasten  the  end... Of  course  you 
understand  I  can't  go  on  with  you,  Lan.  I 
never  could  look  Polly  in  the  face  again  if  I 
deserted  him." 

Thorpe's  forehead  furrowed  anxiously.  "  How 
long?  "  he  asked. 

"  Anywhere  from  a  few  hours  to  four  or  five 
days." 

"  Well  —  all  right.  Suppose  I  take  first  shift? 
You  and  Marcelle  look  all  gantered  up." 

"  You're  going  to  Sezanne,"  asserted  Lucy. 

"  When  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  your 
company,"  rejoined  Thorpe.  "  Cut  out  the  non- 
sense, Loo.  You  saw  those  trenches  the  French 
are  digging.  They  may  hold  up  Von  Hausen 
a  day  —  possibly  two  days;  and  then,  again, 
they  may  not.  Wouldn't  the  sensible  thing  be 
to  take  the  duke  to  Sezanne?  " 

"  He  wouldn't  last  an  hour  if  moved  from  his 
home.  One  who  has  given  his  life  to  his  country 
should  have  his  last  wish.  Remember,  he  and 
Polly  loaned  me  the  castle.  There  was  no  stint 
to  their  hospitality.  I  must  stay  with  him  —  till 
the  end." 

"  Then,  for  heaven's  sake,  turn  in,"  growled 


266  The  Blond  Beast 

Thorpe.    "  Pm  some  nurse  myself.    Scoot.'* 

"  Don't  fourflush,  Lan.  You're  dead  on  your 
feet,  and  don't  know  it. .  .Two  nights  and  a  day 
without  sleep !  But  I'll  rest  too.  The  old  servant 
woman  is  to  sit  by  him.  The  hypodermic  will 
keep  him  quiet  several  hours." 

Somewhat  reluctantly,  Thorpe  allowed  himself 
to  be  persuaded.  After  his  first  hot  bath  in  a 
fortnight,  he  stretched  out  in  an  American  bed, 
and  did  not  waken  until  noon  the  next  day.  The 
duke  was  mercifully  in  a  semi-comatose  condition, 
from  which  he  roused  only  to  brief  moments  of 
pain-tortured  consciousness.  Thorpe  went  out  to 
the  gate  lodge,  where  Lucy  had  quartered  the 
Algerians. 

The  Turco  sergeant  was  peering  with  his 
desert-trained  eyes  into  the  northern  sky.  He 
uttered  a  guttural  curse  and  pointed  with  his 
swarthy  finger.  A  black  speck  was  floating 
across  the  smoky  blue  of  the  heat  haze.  It 
changed  to  a  line  that  appeared  to  stop  still  in 
mid-air  and  thicken.  In  a  few  moments  Thorpe 
made  out  the  all-too-well-known  outlines  of  a 
German  taube.  The  aeroplane  was  driving 
straight  towards  the  castle,  high  above  the 
Marshes  of  St.  Gond.  The  droning  throb  of  its 
engine  was  plainly  audible  before  it  wheeled 
and  soared  eastward  along  the  French  entrench- 
ments like  an  angry  vulture. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
WOLF  IN  SHEEP'S  CLOTHING 

As  at  Dinant,  a  Sunday  —  the  day  of  rest  and 
worship  —  saw  the  gray  deluge  sweep  forward 
to  overwhelm  the  French  lines.  First  came  the 
scouting  patrols  and  reconnoissance  columns, 
hovered  over  and  led  by  the  guiding  aeroplanes. 
To  the  west,  Van  Billow's  van  was  already  across 
the  Petit  Morin  at  Montmiral.  The  Saxon  corps 
dashed  forward  east  of  Fere  Champenoise,  while 
on  their  right  flank  the  Prussian  Guard  flooded 
down  into  the  Marshes  of  St.  Gond. 

From  the  front  tower  of  the  castle  Thorpe 
could  look  northwards  for  miles  over  the  swamp 
lands  below  the  heights.  The  air  was  already 
rumbling  with  the  distant  thunder  of  cannon. 
With  the  aid  of  the  duke's  field  glasses  he  could 
see  the  spots  of  smoke  from  bursting  shells 
spread  laterally.  The  Prussian  columns  were 
deploying  into  battle  line  as  they  advanced  across 
the  dried  clay  surface  of  the  marshes.  Their 
field  gray  remained  invisible;  but  before  long 
Thorpe  could  make  out  dark  dots  and  dashes 
that  approached,  stopped,  and  approached  irregu- 
larly. These  were  the  retreating  French  forces. 
With  them  approached  the  smoke  of  the  shell 
fire. 

267 


268  The  Blond  Beast 

Thorpe  hurried  down  to  inquire  the  condition 
of  his  host.  Lucy  came  out  to  him,  weeping. 

"  Oh,  Lan,  it  is  so  pitiful!  "  she  cried.  "  He 
is  delirious  all  the  time  now  —  and  all  his  talk 
of  la  belle  France.  Not  a  word  for  anything 
else  —  not  even  for  Polly.  I'm  afraid  he  can't 
last  much  longer." 

"  If  he  knew  and  had  the  choice,  he'd  be  glad 
to  go  quickly  —  as  I  would  in  his  place,"  said 
Thorpe.  "  The  French  are  retreating.  Think 
how  he  will  suffer  if  he  survives  long  enough  to 
know  you  have  been  captured  because  of  him. 
It's  now  only  a  question  of  a  few  hours  at  most. 
I'm  going  to  get  out  the  car  and  send  you  to 
Sezanne  with  Marcelle." 

"  And  you? "  asked  Lucy,  her  eyes  very 
bright. 

"I'll  stay  with  the  duke,  of  course," 

"  Really?  —  I'll  fetch  your  Prussian  surgeon's 
coat.  It's  in  my  suitcase." 

"  Now  you're  talking,  Loo!  You'll  start  at 
once?  " 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  she  answered.  "  It  was 
only  the  way  you  said  you'd  stay. .  .1  don't  care 
if  the  Kaiser  himself  is  coming.  I  shall  not 
leave  Polly's  husband  until  he  —  goes." 

Thorpe  turned  away,  bitterly  disappointed. 
Yet  he  went  down  to  the  garage  and  put  in 
several  hours  on  her  car.  The  servants  had 
loaded  the  chateau  cars  and  all  other  convey- 
ances with  the  most  valuable  laces  and  art  glass 
in  the  duke's  collection  and  taken  them  to 
Sezanne.  After  carefully  overhauling  the  engine 
and  running  gear,  Thorpe  found  a  quantity  of 


Wolf  in  Sheep's  Clothing  269 

paint  in  the  chateau  storerooms,  and  smeared 
over  all  the  beautifully  burnished  copper  finish 
of  the  car  body  with  the  symbol  of  the  Bed 
Cross  on  a  white  background. 

While  he  worked,  the  cannonading  steadily 
swelled  out  louder  and  nearer.  He  did  not  stop 
off  a  minute  to  see  what  was  happening.  What 
was  the  use?  He  knew  Lucy.  If  the  duke  were 
not  too  long  in  dying,  they  would  escape.  Other- 
wise they  would  be  taken,  together  with  the 
chateau  —  or  be  buried  in  its  ruins. 

The  delirious  duke  still  lingered  on,  as  if  his 
spirit  could  not  sever  itself  from  his  ancestral 
home  and  the  soil  of  his  beloved  France.  Instead 
of  flicking  out,  it  flared  strong  and  clear  when, 
late  in  the  afternoon,  the  tide  of  battle  spumed 
up  to  the  heights  out  of  the  marsh  lands.  Parts 
of  two  French  batteries  and  several  decimated 
companies  toiled  up  the  castle  hill  and  turned 
to  defend  it  against  the  massed  attack  of  the 
Prussians. 

The  fight  was  as  brief  as  it  was  desperate. 
From  three  sides  the  assailants  charged  up  the 
slopes,  utterly  regardless  of  their  terrible  punish- 
ment from  the  seventy-fives.  At  the  last  moment 
the  French  infantry  covered  the  withdrawal  of 
the  precious  batteries  by  a  sacrifice  charge  that 
swept  down  upon  the  victors  and  stopped  their 
rush.  The  guns  clattered  safely  away  along  the 
high  ground  towards  Sezanne. 

But  by  the  time  the  infantry  had  been  driven 
back  up  through  the  gardens,  only  a  handful 
were  left  to  defend  the  chateau.  As  the  raging 
Guards  burst  the  outer  doors,  Thorpe  dashed 


270  The  Blond  Beast 

up  the  grand  stairway  to  the  duke's  private 
suite.  On  the  door  of  the  anteroom  he  had 
already  chalked  in  German  the  words  that  he 
had  seen  on  an  occasional  unburned  house  north 
of  the  Aisne: 

"  Good  friends  within.    No  harm  to  them." 

Lucy  was  waiting  at  the  bedside  of  the  delirious 
duke  with  her  maid  and  the  frightened  old 
French  couple.  Hardly  had  Thorpe  joined  them 
and  changed  to  his  surgeon's  coat  when  a  wild 
hubbub  broke  out  in  the  corridor.  The  unlocked 
anteroom  door  flew  open.  Thorpe  sprang  to  meet 
the  inrush  of  battle-mad  Prussians,  with  his  arms 
outflung  in  angry  .gestures. 

"  Heraus!  "  he  bellowed  in  German,  after  the 
manner  of  the  portly  surgeon  whose  coat  he 
wore.  "  Numskulls!  dolts!  Can  you  not  read? 
'Raus!  'raus!  " 

There  were  no  officers  with  the  soldiers. 
Thorpe's  arrogant  tone  of  command,  backed  by 
the  sight  of  his  surgeon's  coat,  sent  the  ven- 
erators of  Authority  to  the  right  about.  But 
Thorpe  had  made  out  their  regimental  number. 

"  Halt,"  he  ordered.  "  A  corporal's  squad 
to  stand  guard  at  the  door.  Who  are  your 
officers?  " 

"  Captain  von  Pappheim,  Herr  Surgeon,  and 
Ober-lieutenant  von  Kissel. 

"  Enough.  Find  Lieutenant  von  Kissel.  Tell 
him  Herr  Dorp  would  see  him." 

All  but  the  guard  rushed  off  to  help  hunt  out 
and  bayonet  the  remaining  French  defenders. 
Thorpe  paced  the  anteroom,  fearful  lest  Von 
Pappheim  might  be  first  to  enter.  There  was 


Wolf  in  Sheep's  Clothing  271 

a  sudden  saluting  by  the  men  at  the  door  —  Kurt 
rushed  in  to  grasp  the  outstretched  hands  of 
his  friend.  He  was  thin,  almost  haggard,  but 
he  had  come  through  all  the  fighting  without  a 
scratch. 

"  Allan!  "  he  cried.  "  You're  the  last  man 
I  expected  to  see  this  side  of  America!  " 

"  I  gave  General  von  Hausen  my  word  not 
to  escape." 

"  Then  it's  true  —  Von  Pappheim  insisted  you 
had  broken  parole.  But  I  have  the  written 
testimony  of  the  wounded  men  who  saw  you 
forced  from  the  mairie  by  Turcos,  and  I  have 
the  written  parole  you  gave  a  major  of  Turcos. 
Found  it  at  an  inn  near  Bheims.  Though  his 
name  is  not  given  —  '  * 

"  Major,  the  Duke  of  Montmar,"  explained 
Thorpe.  "  This  is  his  castle.  He  had  previously 
captured  Lucy —  " 

"  Himmel!  Don't  tell  me  she  is  here  —  within 
our  lines?  The  general  is  furious  over  her  fail- 
ure to  return  and  your  alleged  breaking  of 
parole. ' ' 

"  Come  and  see,"  said  Thorpe. 

At  sight  of  Lucy,  the  eager  young  officer  ran 
to  greet  her;  only  to  stop  short,  clap  on  his 
helmet,  and  jerk  out  his  pistol.  The  delirious 
duke  was  shouting  for  his  Turcos  to  charge. 
Lucy  sprang  in  between. 

"  Save  your  ammunition,"  she  scoffed.  "  He 
is  dying." 

Kurt  blushed  crimson  and  hastened  to  replace 
his  pistol. 

"  Can  you  think  that  of  me,  Lucy?     I  heard 


272  The  Blond  Beast 

him  cry  out  as  I  entered,  but  saw  only  you." 

The  scorn  in  Lucy's  eyes  gave  place  to  a  look 
of  half-welcome. 

"I'm  sorry,  Kurt,  if  I  —  Oh!. .  .Etienne—  " 

The  duke  had  sunk  back  on  his  pillows,  silent 
and  inert.  She  darted  to  his  bedside  and  bent 
over  to  make  certain  he  yet  lived. 

From  the  anteroom  sounded  the  muffled  tread 
of  heavy  feet  on  the  silken  rugs.  Von  Pappheim 
stalked  in,  followed  by  the  squad  on  guard. 

"  Good  —  most  good,  my  dear  Von  Kissel," 
he  mocked.  "  I  see  you  have  trapped  the  parole 
breaker  —  and  our  pretty  spy  girl.  Another 
decoration  for  you  from  the  general,  nicht?  " 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  rejoined  Kurt.  "  My 
pleasure  has  been  to  release  Herr  Thorpe,  of  our 
Bed  Cross  service,  and  my  friend  Fraulein 
Carew,  both  of  whom  were  taken  prisoner  by 
this  wounded  major  of  Turcos,  the  Duke  of 
Montmar." 

"  Ach,  a  Turco  duke,"  sneered  von  Pappheim. 
"  Shall  we  see  if  he  is  shamming?  " 

Lucy  sought  to  bar  his  advance.  He  rudely 
shoved  her  aside  and  tore  the  bandages  from 
the  gangrened  wound  of  the  French  officer.  The 
sight  shamed  even  his  Superman  callousness. 

"  Pfui!  —  it  is  far  gone!  "  he  sought  to  hide 
his  disconcertion. 

White  with  horror  of  what  he  had  done,  Lucy 
sought  with  quivering  hands  to  re-dress  the 
wound.  Thorpe  choked  down  his  rage  and 
loathing. 

"  Herr  Count,  speaking  to  you  as  an  officer 
and  a  nobleman,  on  behalf  of  this  French  officer 


Wolf  in  Sheep's  Clothing  273 

of  high  birth,  may  I  request  that  a  guard  be 
given  Miss  Carew  while  she  nurses  him  through 
his  last  hours?  " 

Von  Pappheim  glanced  down  sideways  at 
Lucy's  graceful  figure,  scowled  at  Marcelle  and 
the  cringing  old  servant  couple,  stared  around 
the  bedchamber,  and  smiled  with  unwonted 
suavity. 

"  All  shall  remain  as  now,  only  you  shall 
rejoin  your  hospital  unit,"  he  replied. 

"  Certainly,"  agreed  Thorpe. 

The  captain  brusquely  signed  him  to  come  out 
with  Kurt,  and  posted  the  guard  as  before. 
But  instead  of  leaving  the  chateau,  he  ordered 
the  old  servants  to  prepare  the  best  dinner  that 
the  larder  could  furnish.  While  they  hurried  to 
obey,  he  checked  the  indiscriminate  looting  of 
the  chateau  and  directed  the  efforts  of  his  sol- 
diers to  an  orderly  and  thorough  pillage. 

When  plates  had  been  laid  for  four  with  the 
magnificent  historical  ducal  service  of  Montmar, 
he  gave  Thorpe  a  suave  invitation  for  Lucy  to 
dine  with  them.  Fortunately  the  duke  was  still 
in  a  coma.  Lucy  yielded  to  Thorpe 's  argument 
that  Von  Pappheim  would  force  her  to  the  table 
if  she  refused  to  come  voluntarily. 

Throughout  dinner  she  was  as  warmly  gracious 
to  the  delighted  Kurt  as  she  was  chillingly  polite 
to  his  superior  officer.  Thorpe  felt  no  little 
perplexity  when  he  saw  the  captain  become  still 
more  suave  over  Lucy's  continued  coldness.  The 
champagne  was  of  the  priceless  vintage  of 
'ninety-three,  but  even  that  could  not  explain  the 
unwonted  urbanity  and  composure  with  which 


274  The  Blond  Beast 

the  arrogant  Prussian  officer  conducted  himself. 

Kurt  became  as  uneasy  as  Thorpe.  When  Lucy 
excused  herself  to  return  to  her  patient,  the 
young  officer  rather  ostentatiously  handed  her 
a  gold-inlaid  little  automatic  pistol  that  had  been 
found  in  the  pillaging. 

"  To  use  in  case  one  of  our  men  becomes  intox- 
icated and  seeks  to  bother  you,"  he  said. 

Von  Pappheim 's  look  of  chagrin  betrayed  the 
dark  purpose  that  the  pistol  was  apt  to  frustrate. 
With  difficulty  Thorpe  masked  his  cold  fury 
behind  a  pretense  of  banter  — 

* '  What  a  libel  on  our  kultured  goose-steppers ! 
But  Kurt  and  I  shall  take  the  lounge  in  the 
anteroom  to  guard  you  against  a  return  of  the 
effete  French." 

Now  far  from  bland,  Von  Pappheim  shoved 
back  his  chair  and  went  out,  leaving  his  last 
glass  of  champagne  untouched. 

Throughout  the  night  Thorpe  and  Kurt  took 
turns  on  watch  in  the  anteroom. 

Morning  found  the  duke  still  alive;  and  Von 
Pappheim  had  no  excuse  to  linger  at  the  chateau 
while  the  renewed  battle  advanced  towards 
Sezanne.  He  took  with  him  Thorpe  and  Kurt 
and  most  of  the  men,  but  left  a  detail  to  see 
that  Lucy  did  not  escape.  They  were  also 
instructed  to  begin  shipment  of  the  loot  in  the 
Bed  Cross  motor-vans  that  had  followed  the 
battle  line  across  the  marshes. 

To  the  west,  advanced  columns  had  already 
penetrated  south  beyond  the  Grand  Morin.  To 
the  east,  desperate  fighting  had  driven  the 
French  back  from  around  Fere  Champenoise. 


Wolf  in  Sheep's  Clothing  275 

But  between  these  extremes  the  tremendous 
Prussian  rush  had  been  checked  by  the  French 
on  the  heights  of  Sezanne,  back  of  Montmar. 

When  the  laggards  came  up,  their  regiment 
was  already  trying  to  drive  a  half  regiment  of 
French  out  of  a  grove.  Von  Pappheim  was 
ordered  to  flank  with  his  company.  A  motor 
ambulance  was  detailed  to  follow  the  party. 
Thorpe  left  Kurt  and  went  to  join  the  Red  Cross 
men.  But  he  was  not  invited  to  ride  in  the 
ambulance,  the  doors  of  which  remained  inhos- 
pitably closed. 

Hardly  had  the  company  rounded  into  the 
potato  field  at  the  end  of  the  wood,  when  a 
volley  of  shots  came  flying  from  a  company  of 
French  infantry  of  the  Line,  three  or  four  hun- 
dred feet  ahead.  Thorpe  followed  the  ambulance 
as  it  wheeled  out  from  the  left  flank  of  the 
deploying  company.  The  French  flattened  on 
the  ground.  The  Prussians  had  lost  only  two 
or  three  men,  owing  to  the  poor  aim  of  their 
enemies.  But,  instead  of  charging,  all  promptly 
stretched  prone  at  the  command  of  Von  Papp- 
heim, who  was  the  first  man  down. 

There  followed  a  furious  exchange  of  rifle  fire, 
each  side  shooting  many  hundreds  of  rounds 
within  a  few  minutes.  Thorpe  looked  on  openly 
from  beside  the  rear  of  the  ambulance,  for  not 
a  single  shot  was  fired  by  the  French  at  the  Red 
Cross.  So  far  as  he  could  see,  few  if  any  more 
Prussians  were  struck.  But  the  more  conspicu- 
ously uniformed  French  appeared  to  suffer  sev- 
eral casualties. 

After  the  fusillade  had  continued  for  over  a 


276  The  Blond  Beast 

quarter  hour,  the  French  suddenly  leaped  up  and 
charged.  To  Thorpe's  amazement,  the  Prussians 
stood  erect  and  began  to  give  back.  Their  rapid 
firing  dropped  a  few  more  men  in  the  already 
ragged  French  line.  But  their  withdrawal 
brought  the  gallant  attackers  on  with  redoubled 
ardor. 

The  retreating  Prussians  were  thirty  yards  or 
more  back  of  their  first  position  when  the  pant- 
ing, yelling,  bayonet-brandishing,  fiercely  tri- 
umphant French  came  in  line  with  the  ambulance. 
The  doors  of  the  van  of  Mercy  flew  open.  Out 
of  its  yawning  rear  poured  a  leaden  jet  of 
machine-gun  bullets. 

Under  that  frightful  enfilading  fire  the  French 
went  down  almost  in  a  windrow,  most  of  them 
pitching  prone  on  their  faces.  Of  all  their  num- 
ber, five  alone  staggered  through  the  treacherous 
hail  of  death  to  the  line  of  their  gloating  enemies. 
They  were  surrounded  and  stabbed  from  all  sides. 
Other  Prussians  rushed  forward  to  bayonet  the 
wounded. 

A  few  moments,  and  the  last  Frenchman  was 
murdered.  At  a  sharp  command  from  Von 
Pappheim,  the  Bed  Cross  machine  gunners  closed 
the  doors  of  the  ambulance.  It  wheeled  around 
with  the  company  to  drive  into  the  wood  on  the 
now  unguarded  flank  of  the  larger  French  force. 
Thorpe  did  not  follow.  He  had  leaned  up 
against  a  tree,  sickened  by  the  black  treachery 
of  the  machine-gun  in  the  ambulance  and  by  the 
slaughter  of  the  wounded. 

In  the  rush  for  the  new  attack,  no  one  paid 
any  heed  to  him  or  to  the  few  Prussian  casualties. 


Wolf  in  Sheep's  Clothing  277 

But  as  the  hurrahing  of  the  victors  became  muf- 
fled by  the  trees,  he  heard  a  faint  voice  calling 
his  name.  Half  reluctantly  he  started  out  along 
the  ghastly  line  of  butchered  French.  The  call 
was  repeated.  This  time  he  recognized  the  voice, 
and  dashed  on  across  to  the  far  end  of  the  line. 

Kurt  was  lying  where  he  had  fallen  at  the 
first  volley  of  the  French.  There  was  a  bullet 
wound  clean  through  the  top  of  his  chest,  under 
his  right  shoulder.  By  rare  good  fortune,  the 
bullet  had  entered  without  striking  the  collar 
bone,  and  not  having  been  upset,  had  come  out 
through  the  shoulder  blade  with  a  far  less  gaping 
exit  than  usual  with  such  wounds. 

After  binding  up  the  injury,  Thorpe  clasped 
Kurt's  left  arm  over  his  own  shoulder  and  got 
him  up.  With  frequent  rests,  they  managed  to 
stagger  back  towards  the  chateau. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
WINE  AND  WOMAN 

In  the  loot-heaped  courtyard  of  the  chateau 
Lucy  stood  among  her  own  trunks  and  several 
more  of  Duchess  Polly's,  while  a  soldier  labeled 
them  with  Kurt's  name  and  home  address  in 
Berlin.  The  man  finished,  set  down  his  brush 
and  pot  of  marking  fluid,  pocketed  the  fat  fee 
offered  by  Lucy,  and  went  off  to  help  his  fellows. 
Lucy  took  the  brush  and  began  substituting 
Kurt's  address  on  the  boxes  of  ducal  plate  land 
rare  enamels  that  Von  Pappheim  had  marked 
as  his  own  especial  loot.  The  guards  were  too 
hard  at  work  helping  Bed  Cross  motormen  load 
the  plunder  to  notice  the  changing  of  names. 

The  girl's  clever  ruse  to  salvage  a  small  part 
of  her  friend's  property  from  the  vandals  was 
interrupted  by  a  cry  for  help.  Thorpe  came 
reeling  and  staggering  into  the  courtyard  with 
Kurt  on  his  back.  Overcome  by  loss  of  blood, 
the  young  officer  fainted  as  a  pair  of  Red  Cross 
drivers  ran  to  take  him  in  their  arms.  On  the 
way  into  the  chateau  Thorpe  managed  to  recover 
breath  enough  to  gasp  an  appeal: 

"  Loo  —  won't  you  be  good  to  him  —  for  my 
sake  —  and  Elsa's?  You  know  how  he  loves 


you." 


278 


Wine  and  Woman  279 

"  You  ask  that  —  you?  "  cried  Lucy. 

"  Of  course!  I  —  It  was  here  you  helped  me 
win  Elsa  —  made  me  happy !  I  want  to  see  Kurt 
happy  —  You,  too,  Loo ! . . .  Kurt  is  a  thorough- 
bred. And  he  worships  the  ground  you  tread  on. 
Won't  you  listen  to  him,  Loo?  " 

Lucy's  head  had  drooped  forward.  Her  down- 
bent  gaze  wavered  and  slowly  lifted,  just  high 
enough  to  take  in  Kurt's  backward  sagging  head 
and  pallid  face. 

"I'll  —  I'll  see,"  she  murmured. 

Within  a  few  minutes  they  managed,  between 
them,  to  sterilize  and  pack  the  wound.  Kurt 
revived  to  feverish  consciousness.  At  sight  of 
Lucy  bending  over  him,  the  blue  of  his  eyes 
deepened  into  violet. 

^Liebe  fraulein!  Hebe  fraulein!  "  he  whis- 
pered his  adoration.  "  You  will  not  leave  me?  " 

"  Etienne  is  in  the  next  room,"  she  soothed. 
"  I  shall  care  for  you  both." 

He  clasped  her  hand  and  drew  it  to  his  lips. 
Thorpe  quietly  went  out.  In  the  courtyard  he 
found  that  the  busy  pillagers  had  brought  around 
Lucy's  redecorated  car  and  were  loading  it  with 
loot. 

"  Stop,"  he  ordered.  "  This  car  is  reserved 
for  officers'  use." 

"  Who  are  you  to  command?  "  growled  a  ser- 
geant. "  Herr  Captain  has  told  you  have  no 
authority." 

"  Tell  him  of  this  order,"  rejoined  Thorpe. 
"  I  speak  for  Lieutenant  von  Kissel." 

Though  surly  and  reluctant,  the  men  unloaded 
the  car.  Thorpe  next  noticed  the  trunks  with 


280  The  Blond  Beast 

Lucy's  initials,  addressed  to  Kurt.  He  per- 
ceived the  ruse,  and  in  Kurt's  name  commanded 
other  boxes  to  be  marked  the  same.  From  Berlin 
the  salvaged  loot  could,  in  time,  be  shipped  to 
Duchess  Polly  in  America, 

Along  with  this  idea  Thorpe  thought  out  a 
far  more  vital  scheme.  At  the  least,  Kurt  was 
out  of  the  fighting  for  a  month  or  more.  Why 
not  slip  away  north  with  him  while  Von  Papp- 
heim  was  still  fighting?  Lucy  could  go  in  the 
role  of  nurse.  Once  clear  of  the  captain  and 
General  von  Hausen,  Kurt  might  get  her  over  the 
Holland  frontier  before  her  flight  could  be  traced. 

When  he  told  the  plan  to  Kurt  and  Lucy, 
both  thought  it  perfect.  The  only  obstacle  was 
Lucy's  unshaken  determination  to  remain  at  the 
chateau  until  the  death  of  the  duke  —  And  he, 
though  now  almost  constantly  in  the  ominous 
coma  that  was  so  like  death,  continued  to  linger 
on,  as  if  unable  to  die  while  the  fate  of  France 
still  hung  in  the  balance. 

Another  day  passed  in  this  state  of  dread  and 
suspense.  All  the  strength  of  the  magnificent 
Imperial  Guard  was  now  being  exerted  to  hack 
a  way  over  the  heights  of  Sezanne.  The  Prus- 
sians hurled  themselves  forward  to  the  attack 
both  day  and  night.  Yet  somehow  their  most 
desperate  massed  charges  failed  to  break  through 
the  half -dug  French  entrenchments  on  the  plateau 
back  of  Montmar. 

The  chagrined  assailants  reported  that  Foch 
must  have  concentrated  the  larger  part  of  his 
small  army  along  the  line  west  of  Fere  Champe- 
noise.  This  was  apparently  confirmed  by  the 


Wine  and  Woman  281 

return  report  that  the  enemy  was  giving  back 
on  his  right  wing  all  the  way  to  the  Camp  de 
Mailly.  Then  the  center  bowed  back  south  of 
Fere  Champenoise. 

During  the  night  of  the  eighth,  word  was 
received  that  the  grand  massed  assaults  at  Nancy, 
under  the  eye  of  the  Kaiser  himself,  had  broken 
down  with  a  toll  of  fifty  thousand  German  lives. 
But,  as  offset,  the  surprise  attack  on  Von  Kluck's 
flank  by  a  new  French  army  and  the  garrison 
of  Paris,  had  been  met  and  held.  All  the  German 
armies  along  the  hundred  and  ninety  mile  battle 
front  to  Verdun  were  holding  the  French  until 
Von  Hausen  should  burst  on  through  the  buck- 
ling, crumbling  center  of  the  wall  of  defense. 

No  more  was  now  asked  of  the  Guard  regi- 
ments deployed  before  Sezanne  than  that  they 
should  continue  to  hold  Foch's  left  wing.  Their 
own  left  and  the  Saxons  would  rush  on  over 
Foch's  defeated  center  and  right,  which  were 
still  retreating. .  .All  the  quarter-million  fighters 
of  Von  Hausen 's  picked  army  were  absolutely 
certain  that  victory  was  in  their  grasp. 

In  accord  with  this  general  conviction,  Von 
Pappheim  returned  to  the  chateau  to  bathe  and 
dine.  So  many  officers  had  been  killed  or  dis- 
abled that  he  was  now  the  acting  commander  of 
the  regiment,  and  could  direct  his  own  move- 
ments. He  ordered  Lucy  to  the  table.  Kurt 
tottered  in  with  her,  his  uninjured  arm  clasped 
about  her  neck. 

The  tender  care  with  which  she  seated  her 
patient  and  proceeded  to  wait  upon  him  won 
a  stare  of  jealous  anger  from  the  captain.  But 


282 

he  was  too  ravenous  to  more  than  interject  into 
the  conversation  an  occasional  sneer  at  the 
French,  and  boast  how  soon  the  delayed  Sedan 
Day  should  now  be  celebrated  in  Paris.  He 
washed  down  the  savory  food  with  steinfuls  of 
the  rare  'ninety-three  champagne  and  the  still 
more  rare  old  port  that  poured  like  liquid  rubies. 

A  field  telephone  had  been  brought  back  to 
the  chateau.  After  gorging  his  fill,  Von  Papp- 
heim  flung  back  his  chair  and  went  to  communi- 
cate with  the. front.  He  returned  to  order  a  bed 
prepared  for  himself.  Later  Thorpe  saw  him 
lead  a  squad  of  pioneers  into  the  private  office 
at  the  end  of  the  duke's  suite.  After  a  few 
minutes  the  walls  and  floors  of  the  chateau 
shook  with  a  detonation  as  violent  as  that  of  a 
three-inch  shell. 

Thorpe  rushed  to  discover  the  cause.  He 
found  Von  Pappheim  in  the  act  of  ransacking 
a  chilled  steel  vault,  which  the  unskilled  pillagers 
had  for  days  vainly  tried  to  drill  and  blow  open. 
Gold,  silver,  family  jewels,  bonds,  banknotes  — 
all  were  thrust  into  a  suitcase  by  the  titled  thief. 
Having  skimmed  the  cream,  Von  Pappheim  began 
to  glance  over  and  tear  up  the  duke's  deeds  and 
other  non-negotiable  papers. 

In  the  midst  he  came  upon  a  bulky  envelope 
addressed  to  the  duke  by  Lucy.  On  the  packet 
was  written  a  condition  that  it  was  not  to  be 
opened  unless  the  duke  learned  she  was  being 
treated  as  a  spy  by  the  German  secret  service. 

The  first  glance  at  the  envelope's  contents 
brought  a  look  of  cruel  gloating  into  Von  Papp- 
heim's  drink-flushed  hatchet  face.  He  rushed  out 


Wine  and  Woman  283 

so  hurriedly  that  he  left  the  unlocked  suitcase  on 
the  vault  floor  and  failed  to  notice  Thorpe  in  the 
shadowed  corner  behind  the  pioneers. 

These  engineers  belonged  to  a  reserve  regi- 
ment, and  were  all  strangers  to  Thorpe.  With 
a  curt  command  for  them  to  make  way,  he 
elbowed  through  their  midst,  shut  and  locked  the 
suitcase,  and  smiled  condescendingly. 

"  Enough,  my  good  men.  I  will  attend  to  the 
herr  captain's  property.  You  will  immediately 
rejoin  your  company." 

They  saw  the  number  of  Von  Pappheim's  regi- 
ment on  the  surgeon's  coat,  and  marched  off 
like  the  well-drilled  automatons  they  were.  Their 
company  was  two  or  three  miles  away.  Thorpe 
transferred  all  the  contents  of  the  suitcase,  except 
the  silver,  to  a  strong-box.  Leaving  the  suitcase 
and  silver  in  the  vault,  he  carried  the  coffer  out 
to  the  garage,  carefully  painted  on  it  Kurt's 
name  and  home  address,  and  locked  it  in  the 
car  trunk.  All  this  passed  unnoticed.  The 
chateau  guards,  as  he  knew,  were  intoxicated  with 
champagne. 

He  returned  into  the  chateau  and  found  Von 
Pappheim  seated  with  Lucy  and  Kurt  at  the 
dinner  table.  By  the  simple  process  of  dumping, 
the  cloth  and  service  had  been  cleared  off  to 
make  room  for  a  stack  of  wine  bottles.  Lucy  was 
scornfully  defiant,  Von  Pappheim  leering  like  a 
satyr,  Kurt  pale  with  dread  and  indignation. 

"  Come  on  in,  Lan,"  called  Lucy.  "  You're 
just  in  time  to  hear  the  joke.  The  noble  count 
has  stolen  my  snapshots  and  is  using  them  to 
blackmail  me  into  marrying  him." 


284  The  Blond  Beast 

The  cap  tain's  leer  hardened  into  a  menacing 
glare. 

"  You  will  do  well  to  curb  your  poisoned 
tongue,  my  pretty  frau- to-be,"  he  advised. 
'  *  Were  it  not  that  beauty  shows  best  in  a  golden 
frame,  I  would  take  you  now,  without  waiting 
for  a  wedding.  Consider  the  choice  I  have 
offered —  To  be  upraised  into  the  high  position 
of  Countess  von  Pappheim,  or  shot  as  a  convicted 
spy." 

Lucy's  scorn  flared.  "  By  all  means  the  lesser 
evil!  —  How  soon  can  you  order  out  your  firing 
squad?  " 

"  I  do  not  jest,  fraulein,"  warned  Von  Papp- 
heim, the  tushes  of  his  mustache  bristling. 

"  Well,  you  are  quite  sufficiently  ridiculous 
when  you  fancy  that  any  girl  could  bring  herself 
to  marry  you  if  she  has  the  choice  of  dying 
instead. ' ' 

Kurt  leaned  forward,  his  normally  mild  blue 
eyes  half  starting  from  their  sockets. 

"  This  matter  is  personal  with  me,  Herr  Cap- 
tain. I  shall  lay  it  before  a  court  of  honor. 
You  insult  and  abuse  the  lady  whom  I  have  asked 
to  become  my  wife.  If  you  prefer  not  to  wait 
for  the  court,  I  will  meet  you  with  pistols  at 
dawn  —  or  immediately." 

Von  Pappheim  smiled  cynically. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  your  mutinous  refusal 
to  obey  my  orders  at  the  hospital  where  I  first 
caught  this  spy-woman.  —  You  see,  my  pretty 
girl,  I  have  another  card  or  two.  You  will  now 
agree  to  marry  me,  or  your  lover  shall  stand 
with  you  before  the  firing  squad." 


Wine  and  Woman  285 

"  You  coward!  "  cried  Lucy. 

"  Soon  you  shall  be  calling  me  your  hero, 
liebe  fraulein.  If  you  find  the  word  difficult,  I 
will  teach  it  to  you  —  with  my  dog  whip." 

Thorpe  stepped  around  to  lean  over  Lucy's 
shoulder  and  gaze  straight  into  the  threatener's 
glaring  eyes. 

"  I  dislike  to  soil  my  hands,  Herr  Count.  But 
I  fear  it  will  be  necessary,  if  you  do  not  apologize 
to  Miss  Carew." 

Von  Pappheim's  hand  dropped  with  the  wine 
glass  it  was  raising  and  flicked  up  with  his  pistol. 

"  Who  is  the  coward?  "  he  taunted.  "  You 
stand  behind  the  fraulein." 

"  My  fault,"  thrust  back  Thorpe.  "  I  forgot 
how  at  that  chateau  beyond  Dinant  your  poor 
aim  killed  not  only  the  chatelaine  but  her  young 
daughter. ' ' 

The  captain  pointed  his  pistol.  "  This  time  I 
will  take  better  aim." 

Lucy  twisted  out  of  her  chair,  to  spring  up  on 
its  seat  before  Thorpe. 

"  No!  no!  no!  "  she  screamed.  "  You  shall 
not!  He  has  done  nothing!  Shoot  me  —  me! 
Don't  hurt  him!  " 

A  look  of  exultant  enlightenment  glinted  in 
Von  Pappheim's  cruel  eyes.  He  lowered  the 
pistol  and  smiled  with  mock  geniality. 

"  Ach!  Now  I  begin  to  see,"  he  said.  "  Now 
I  have  an  argument  that  shall  persuade  my  liebe 
fraulein  —  nichtf  ' ' 

' '  You  —  you  unutterable  cad !  ' '  sobbed  Lucy, 
and  she  drooped  like  a  wilting  flower. 

Von  Pappheim  turned  to  smile  mockingly  at 


286  The  Blond  Beast 

Kurt.  Instantly  Thorpe  flung  himself  down 
around  Lucy's  chair  and  heaved  up  the  end  of 
the  table.  The  downward  cascading  wine  bottles 
disconcerted  the  aim  of  Von  Pappheim's  up- 
jerked  pistol.  Before  he  could  fire,  the  edge  of 
the  table  was  on  his  knees  and  the  top  tilting  up 
to  topple  against  him.  He  saved  himself  from 
being  smashed  backwards  with  his  chair  only  by 
dropping  his  pistol  to  wrench  the  table  sideways. 

As  the  table  crashed  down,  Thorpe  fell  on  his 
hands  and  knees  before  the  upleaping  captain. 
He  plunged  forward  to  seize  the  pistol,  which 
was  lying  among  the  shattered  wine  bottles.  Von 
Pappheim  could  have  whipped  out  his  sword  and 
slashed  his  unexpected  assailant.  But,  flurried 
for  perhaps  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  dashed 
for  the  door.  He  was  outside  before  Thorpe 
could  scramble  up  and  level  the  pistol. 

"  Oh  —  oh  —  Lan !  ' '  gasped  Lucy.  '  *  You  're 
hurt!  Your  hands!  " 

Thorpe  glanced  down. 

"  That?  —  Only  the  port  wine.  May  be  a  little 
cut  or  two.  But  I  sure  have  messed  the  situation. 
How  about  it,  Kurt?  " 

"  Badly,"  agreed  Kurt,  who  had  jumped  to 
place  himself  before  Lucy.  "  He  will  return 
with  a  squad.  There  is  only  one  chance  now. 
Lucy,  give  me  your  pledge  to  marry  me.  Later 
you  may  recall  it,  if  you  wish,  but  now  you  must 
become  my  betrothed." 

The  girl  stepped  down  from  her  chair  and 
looked  from  him  to  Thorpe  with  widening  eyes. 
"  Do  you  really  think  it  would  —  would  save 
Lan  —  and  you?  "  she  inquired. 


Wine  and  Woman  287 

11  All  of  us  —  just  a  chance,  but  the  only  one," 
said  Kurt  firmly. 

"  I'll  go  out  and  pot  the  tow-headed  beast 
before  he  can  sic  his  war  dogs  on  us,"  proposed 
Thorpe.  "  Even  if  they  get  me  for  it,  Kurt,  the 
coast  will  then  be  clear  for  you  to  make  a  get- 
away with  Loo." 

*  *  No  —  no,  wait !  You  sha  'n  't  go,  Lan !  '  '  cried 
the  girl.  "  I  —  I  '11  accept  Kurt 's  offer.  —  If  you 
want  me,  Kurt,  with  only  what  I  can  give  you 
now  —  and  if  you  really  believe  it  will  —  will 
save  —  us." 

"  My  ring  — quick!  "  urged  the  young  officer. 

Lucy  drew  off  the  emerald  ring  that  sparkled 
on  the  little  finger  of  his  outstretched  left  hand. 
She  slipped  it  upon  her  engagement  finger. 

"  Now  we  are  betrothed,"  he  said.  "  Into  the 
duke's  room  with  her,  Allan.  Bolt  the  far  door. 
If  I  do  not  turn  them  back,  try  to  shoot  your 
way  out.  If  that  is  impossible,  kill  her  before 
permitting  her  to  fall  into  his  hands." 

"  Of  course,"  agreed  Thorpe. 

He  rushed  the  unresisting  girl  into  the  ducal 
chamber,  secured  the  far  door,  and  ran  back  to 
stand  with  Von  Pappheim's  pistol  beside  the 
half-closed  door  into  the  anteroom.  He  saw  Kurt 
seated  on  Lucy's  chair,  facing  the  outer  entrance. 

There  was  a  tramping  of  heavy  feet  outside 
in  the  rug-looted  corridor.  The  squad  of  guards 
marched  in  with  fixed  bayonets.  Behind  them 
Von  Pappheim  peered  cautiously  into  the  ante- 
room. Seeing  only  his  wounded  lieutenant,  he 
stepped  in  after  his  men. 

Kurt  called  out,  very  distinctly  and  rapidly,  in 


288  The  Blond  Beast 

a  tone  of  sharp  command:  "  Halt!  Look,  men, 
at  that  spilled  wine,  the  bottles  and  table.  The 
herr  captain  drank  himself  into  delirium.  He  is 
wine-mad.  He  imagines  —  ' ' 

"  Gott!  "  swore  Von  Pappheim.  "  Shoot  down 
the  mutinous  schweinhund,  you  dolts!  Take 
aim  —  ' ' 

Up  swung  every  rifle  of  the  squad,  with 
mechanical  precision.  But  Kurt's  finger  was 
pointing  at  the  Iron  Cross  on  his  left  breast. 

"  Auf!  "  he  commanded.  "  Salute  the  Cross 
placed  here  by  the  High  Commander." 

"  Fire!  "  yelled  Von  Pappheim. 

The  soldiers,  caught  with  rifles  jerking  down 
to  the  position  of  present  arms,  hesitated  like 
marionettes  whose  strings  are  crossed. 

"  Auf!  "  repeated  Kurt,  rising  severely  erect. 
"  A  mad  officer  has  no  authority.  I  command 
here.  About  face  —  March." 

The  men  feared  their  martinet  captain  as  much 
as  they  hated  him.  But  they  loved  their  lieuten- 
ant, and  they  had  seen  the  High  Commander  pin 
that  Iron  Cross  on  his  breast.  His  cool,  stern 
tone  and  bearing  were  more  authoritative  than 
his  superior's  furious  repetition  of  the  order  to 
fire.  The  squad  faced  about.  Speechless  with 
rage,  Von  Pappheim  cut  down  the  nearest  man 
with  a  slash  of  his  sword.  The  others,  rattled 
and  panic-stricken,  bolted  past  him  out  into  the 
corridor.  He  advanced  across  the  room  with  his 
reddened  sword  ready  to  strike. 

Kurt  deliberately  drew  his  pistol. 

"  You  will  be  well  advised  to  sheathe  your 
sword,  Herr  Captain,"  he  remarked  in  a  very 


Wine  and  Woman  289 

quiet  tone.  "  I  am  prepared  to  answer  for  this 
before  a  court  martial,  and  to  make  counter 
charges  against  you.  I  now  have  witnesses  to 
bear  out  my  belief  that  you  have  become  frenzied 
from  drink.  If  you  attempt  any  more  violence, 
I  shall  feel  justified  in  shooting  you  down  like 
a  mad  dog." 

The  extreme  quietness  with  which  this  was 
spoken  convinced  Von  Pappheim  that  his  under 
officer  was  in  deadly  earnest.  He  slammed  his 
sword  into  its  scabbard  and  gave  back  towards 
the  door. 

"  Gottl '  he  muttered.  "  Who  commands 
shall  be  seen!  " 

"  One  moment,  if  you  please,  Herr  Captain. 
You  are  covered  by  another  pistol.  Do  you 
wish  to  stand  here  before  it  while  I  telephone 
to  our  fellow  officers  how  a  certain  captain  of 
the  Guard  was  disarmed  by  a  tableful  of  wine 
bottles?  " 

The  threat  of  ridicule  was  far  harder  for 
the  arrogant  count  to  face  than  the  menace 
of  death.  He  smothered  his  rage. 

"  Your  terms?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Delivery  of  my  betrothed  and  my  friend, 
unharmed,  to  General  von  Hausen,  and  refer- 
ence of  our  own  difficulties  to  a  court  of  honor; 
meantime  fair  treatment  and  no  violence  to 
the  three  of  us." 

"  Your  —  betrothed?  "  sneered  Von  Pappheim. 

"  The  fraulein  has  accepted  my  proposal  of 
marriage.  Permit  me  to  thank  you  for  your 
part  in  the  forming  of  her  decision. — With 
regard  to  the  terms:  Are  they  acceptable  to 


290  The  Blond  Beast 

you,  or  am  I  to  have  the  pleasure  of  tele- 
phoning our  regiment  about  the  campaign  of 
the  champagne  bottles!  " 

The  pill  was  bitter.  Von  Pappheim  hesi- 
tated. "  What  assurance  have  I  that  no  men- 
tion'will  be  made  of  —  that  unselig  incident?  " 

"  My  word  as  an  officer,"  replied  Kurt.  "  You 
accept  the  terms?  " 

"  Ja! "  The  monosyllable  exploded  like  a 
curse. 

"  Your  most  binding  pledge,"  exacted  Kurt. 

Von  Pappheim 's  face  purpled.  Yet  after 
only  a  moment  he  spat  out  venomously:  "  I 
give  my  word  of  honor  as  an  officer  and 
nobleman." 

Kurt  bowed  with  unfeigned  gravity. 

"  The  gracious  word  of  Herr  Captain,  Count 
Wolf  von  Pappheim,  is  accepted." 

Most  ungraciously  Von  Pappheim  turned  his 
back  and  stalked  out,  absurdly  like  the  balked 
villain  of  a  melodrama.  The  pistol  clattered 
on  the  floor  beside  Kurt's  chair  as  he  slumped 
down. 

Lucy  came  darting  from  the  inner  chamber, 
to  bend  down  beside  him  and  clasp  his  limp 
hand.  Without  looking  up  at  Thorpe,  who  was 
gripping  his  uninjured  shoulder,  she  cried  out 
breathlessly : 

"  Splendid,  Kurt,  splendid!  If  you  wish,  you 
may  —  may  —  '  > 

Her  lips  offered  themselves  for  the  betrothal 
kiss.  Thorpe  abruptly  faced  away  and  hur- 
ried across  to  close  and  bolt  the  corridor  door. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


On  the  morning  of  September  the  ninth,  that 
most  fateful  Wednesday  in  all  the  history  of 
France,  the  dank,  foggy  night  was  followed  by 
a  deluge  of  cold  rain.  The  caked  surface  clay 
of  the  Marshes  of  St.  Gond  quickly  melted  to 
mire,  which  was  in  turn  liquified  into  bog  by 
the  flood  freshets  that  poured  down  from  the 
drenched  heights  and  slopes. 

Soon  after  dawn  Lucy  roused  up  and  went 
in  to  relieve  the  watch  of  her  maid  at  the 
bedside  of  the  duke.  All  night  he  had  lain 
so  completely  sunk  in  the  fatal  coma  that  only 
the  slight  haze  on  a  .mirror  held  to  his  lips 
told  that  he  was  still  alive. 

Yet  hardly  had  Lucy  sent  Marcelle  to  rest 
when  the  sunken  eyes  of  the  dying  man  flicked 
open.  They  stared  up  past  Lucy,  bright  with 
the  eager,  probing  look  of  one  who  sees  or 
hears  some  wondro-us  event.  A  moment  of 
expectancy,  and  they  flamed  with  wildly  exult- 
ant ardor.  The  strength  of  delirium  wrenched 
that  torpor-deadened  body  to  a  sitting  position. 
The  right  arm  flung  up  and  outward.  The  blue- 
white  lips  parted,  in  a  fiercely  joyous  shout 
of  attack: 

291 


292  The  Blond  Beast 

"  En  avant!  En  avant!  A  bos  les  Baches! 
Vive  la  France!  Vive — " 

The  cry  broke  short  in  a  gasp  and  rattle 
all  too  familiar  to  Lucy.  The  convulsive  up- 
straightened  body  dropped  back  on  the  pillows, 
leaden  and  inert.  Thorpe  rushed  in  and  found 
Lucy  stooped  to  close  the  staring  dark  eyes 
that  would  never  again  flash  with  ardor  for 
la  patrie.  Her  own  eyes  were  brimming  with 
tears  of  compassion. 

"  Oh,  Lan,  to  think  he  should  go  like  this 
—  and  Polly  not  here!  " 

"  He's  past  suffering  now,  thank  God," 
replied  Thorpe.  "  You've  done  all  you  could. . . 
Must  think  of  yourself  now.  Jump  lively.  I'll 
turn  out  Kurt  and  get  up  the  car  top.  Bundle 
up  well.  It's  a  cold  rain." 

Lucy  shivered.  "  Needn't  tell  me. —  But 
Etienne1?  The  way  they  are  thrown  together 
in  ditches!  There  must  be  a  grave  where  Polly 
can  find  it  —  and  a  —  coffin  of  some  kind." 

Thorpe's  jaw  tightened.  But  he  hastened  off, 
with  no  attempt  to  reason  against  this  new 
condition.  Sentiment  and  a  woman's  will  are 
beyond  reason  —  or  above  it.  He  roused  Kurt 
with  the  news  and  ventured  out  into  the  cor- 
ridor. Loud  snores  drew  him  to  the  open 
door  of  a  once  resplendent  bedchamber,  now 
littered  ankle-deep  with  Duchess  Polly's  toilet 
sets  and  silk  hosiery,  bric-a-brac,  pictures,  and 
lacy  lingerie.7  Empty  wine  bottles  were  strewn 
beside  the  stately  canopied  bed,  upon  which 
Von  Pappheim  lay  with  his  spurs  entangled  in 
the  silk  coverlet. 


Besieged  293 

Here  was  promise  of  escape  in  spite  of  Lucy's 
delay.  Thorpe  ran  down  to  the  first  floor  of 
the  chateau.  All  about  the  looted,  smashed, 
denied  suites,  numbers  of  lightly  wounded  Prus- 
sians were  carousing  on  champagne  and  port, 
or  lying,  like  their  commander,  in  a  drunken 
stupor.  By  diligent  search,  Thorpe  found  a 
few  men  not  too  intoxicated  to  work.  Some 
he  set  to  knocking  together  a  coffin  from  a 
square  grand  piano  —  not  made  in  Germany  — 
that  had  been  gutted  by  the  successors  of  Bee- 
thoven and  Wagner. 

Chance  brought  Thorpe  and  his  grave  dig- 
gers out  into  the  chill  rain-drenched  little  rose 
garden  where,  only  a  month  and  a  half  before, 
under  the  golden  sun  of  July,  he  had  won  the 
love  of  his  Gold  Elsie.  There  was  still  a  pro- 
fusion of  roses,  but  the  full-blown  ones  had 
been  pelted  to  pieces,  and  even  the  young  buds 
drooped  sadly  under  the  weeping  sky. 

Thorpe  paused  at  the  spot  where  Elsa  had 
made  the  sweet  confession  of  her  love.  The 
soldier  grave-diggers  took  his  halting  as  a  signal 
to  fall  to  work.  They  promptly  thrust  in 
their  spades  and  began  to  fling  the  muddied 
soil  on  the  nearest  rose  bushes.  The  act 
affected  Thorpe  like  the  desecration  of  a  shrine, 
but  it  was  under  way  before  he  could  inter- 
fere. He  started  to  order  the  men  to  another 
place,  hesitated,  and  walked  off,  with  head 
downbent.  After  all,  what  was  the  difference? 
He  had  won  Elsa.  She  was  waiting  for  him 
in  Berlin.  The  only  thing  that  mattered  now 
was  to  get  to  her  —  and  save  Lucy. 


294  The  Blond  Beast 

Brief  as  had  been  his  absence  in  the  garden, 
his  return  into  the  chateau  found  the  drunken 
carousal  of  the  soldiers  transformed  into  a 
bedlam  of  fear  and  hate.  The  non-commissioned 
officers  and  the  least  drunken  of  the  men  were 
beating  and  kicking  the  others  and  pounding 
the  insteps  of  the  sodden  sleepers.  There  could 
be  only  one  explanation  for  such  an  interrup- 
tion of  the  debauch. 

Thorpe  dashed  through  the  mob  and  up  the 
grand  stairway.  At  the  top  he  met  a  double 
squad  that  came  hurrying  with  Kurt  and  Lucy 
in  their  midst.  He  too  was  caught  and  swept 
along  to  the  room  into  which  the  field  telephone 
had  been  brought.  Von  Pappheim,  with  his 
tow  head  dripping  from  a  plunge  in  cold  water 
and  his  face  livid  with  rage,  was  shouting  com- 
mands into  the  transmitter.  He  lowered  the 
instrument  and  twisted  about  to  glare  at  the 
newcomers. 

"  The  French  have  struck!  "  divined  Thorpe. 
"  Your  forces  are  being  driven  back!  " 

Von  Pappheim  sprang  up,  aflame  with  rage 
and  shame. 

' '  You  schweirihund!  to  taunt  at  such  a  time ! 
Gott  strafe—11 

11  Hold!  "  broke  in  Kurt.  "  You  gave  your 
word. —  This  alarm?. .  .What  report —  " 

"  What?  what?  Gott  im  Himmel!  The  ver- 
dammt  French  apes  are  too  big  fools  to  know 
they  are  defeated.  They  have  come  jumping 
down  at  our  lines  like  maniacs.  Already  the 
Guard  is  giving  ground.  No  wonder,  when  on 
our  right  the  Turco  devils  are  chasing  Billow's 


Besieged  295 

Hanoverians  to  the  Petit  Morin.  We  are 
flanked." 

"  But  to  the  east?  "  cried  Kurt. 

"No  word  from  the  Saxons... Yet  what  to 
expect!  Through  all  our  left  wing  the  mad 
dogs  are  biting  like  knives  through  cheese. 
SchrecklichI  " 

Lucy's  eyes  had  widened  with  awed  won- 
derment. 

"  Etienne!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  He  must  have 
known  —  he  must  have  seen  a  vision  of  it... 
Dying  —  all  but  dead... Yet  to  rouse  up  —  shout 
the  charge  —  call  to  his  soldiers!. .  .Yes,  yes, 
he  knew!  " 

"  I  heard,"  muttered  Thorpe,  more  than  half 
convinced  that  the  dying  man  had  received  a 
telepathic  message  of  the  French  assault.  "Herr 
Captain,  you  speak  as  if  the  chateau  may  soon 
be  under  fire.  Give  leave  for  Lieutenant  von 
Kissel  to  escort  Miss  Carew  out  of  danger." 

Von  Pappheim's  mustache  tushes  curved  in 
towards  his  big,  thin  nose. 

"  Nein.  The  terms  to  which  I  agreed  have 
no  reference  to  an  attack  by  the  enemy.  My 
orders  are  to  hold  the  chateau  to  the  last  man. 
My  back-falling  regiment  is  to  be  our  garrison." 

He  turned  to  snap  out  a  command  in  Ger- 
man: "  Sergeant,  return  these  prisoners  to  their 
quarters.  Watch  them  with  utmost  care." 

Back  in  the  duke's  private  suite,  under  heavy 
guard,  Thorpe's  lips  tightened  at  the  bitter 
thought  that  they  might  now  be  whirling  away 
towards  the  Marne  if  Lucy  had  not  insisted 
upon  delaying  for  the  burial.  And  as  it  was, 


296  The  Blond  Beast 

the  delay  had  failed  to  win  that  for  which  she 
had  given  up  their  chance  of  escape.  The 
guards  refused  even  Kurt's  request  that  the 
half-finished  coffin  be  brought  in,  and  Captain 
von  Pappheim  was  far  too  busy  planning  the 
defenses  of  the  chateau  to  heed  any  messages. 

The  eagle-nosed  count  was  as  skillful  and 
determined  as  he  was  remorseless.  From  the 
side  windows  of  the  suite  the  prisoners  glimpsed 
soldiers  rapidly  but  methodically  felling  the 
ornamental  trees  and  shrubs  of  the  beautiful 
chateau  gardens  to  form  barricades  and  chevaux- 
de-frise. 

Wounded  men  began  to  stream  back  from  the 
front.  Every  one  of  them  able  to  handle  an  ax 
or  pick  or  spade  was  set  to  work  and  task- 
driven  with  merciless  rigor. 

By  noon  the  back-hurled  flood  of  invasion 
was  beginning  to  seethe  and  eddy  about  the 
chateau.  Von  Pappheim  gathered  in  the  few 
batteries  that  came  his  way,  and  did  his  utmost 
to  obtain  reinforcements  for  the  remnants  of 
his  regiment  that  had  managed  to  win  back 
before  the  fury  of  the  French  charges.  But 
in  the  wild  confusion  of  the  retreat,  that  was 
already  half  rout,  all  lines  of  communication 
were  broken,  and  not  a  single  officer  or  man 
would  stay  behind  who  had  other  choice. 

The  war  storm  first  broke  upon  the  chateau 
'  in  a  volley  of  shrapnel  shells  from  the  plateau 
towards  Sezanne.  Then  came  preliminary  gushes 
of  the  blue-coated  French  infantry,  interspersed 
with  detachments  of  Turcos.  The  main  front 
of  the  Imperial  Guard  had  already  been  driven 


Besieged  297 

down  into  the  valleys  on  each  side  of  the  castle. 

Time  after  time  the  out-peering  prisoners  saw 
thin  lines  of  the  blue-coated,  red-legged  assail- 
ants rush  up  over  the  round  of  the  chateau 
hill  and  charge  forward  through  the  shell-torn 
gardens  until  the  last  man  fell  before  the  Prus- 
sian rifles  and  machine-guns ..  .And  still  other 
lines  —  some  light-blue,  some  mustard  yellow  — 
came  leaping  to  the  Rendezvous  of  Death.  The 
hail  of  shrapnel  steadily  increased  as  the  French 
brought  up  more  batteries  of  their  fearful 
seventy-fives. 

By  mid-afternoon  the  action  was  so  hot  that 
the  men  guarding  the  prisoners  were  called 
away  to  meet  a  particularly  strong  assault. 
At  the  same  time  the  seventy-fives  began  to 
intersperse  their  shrapnel  with  high  explosive 
shells  aimed  at  the  chateau.  The  cowering  old 
servant  couple  only  too  willingly  obeyed  Kurt's 
command  to  lead  Lucy  and  her  maid  down 
into  the  lowermost  cellars.  Kurt  saw  to  their 
safety,  and  then  joined  Thorpe  in  the  south- 
west tower. 

Below  the  tower  the  gardens  extended  down 
and  out  upon  the  broad  saddle  that  connected 
the  promontory  hill  with  the  main  plateau. 
Here  was  centered  the  main  attack  of  the  furi- 
ous assailants.  As  Kurt  ran  to  kneel  and  peer 
down  over  the  sill  of  the  window,  side  by  side 
with  Thorpe,  a  line  of  Turcos,  already  riddled 
by  machine-gun  fire,  was  leaping  the  outer  brush 
barrier  of  the  Prussians,  knives  flourishing  and 
bayonets  ready  to  lunge.  The  defenders  sprang 
back  and  braced  themselves  in  close  ranks,  only 


298  The  Blond  Beast 

to  have  their  line  shattered  by  the  terrific 
shock  of  the  Africans.  Some  stood  and  fought. 
The  greater  number  fled  in  wild  panic.  At 
their  backs  bounded  the  screaming  Turco  pan- 
thers, lunging  and  slashing. 

Close  before  the  inner  line  of  defense,  enfilad- 
ing machine-guns  burst  into  terrific  action.  The 
surviving  Guard  fugitives  were  slaughtered  with 
the  Turcos.  But  a  blue  wave  of  bearded  Ter- 
ritorials was  already  breaking  over  the  unde- 
fended outer  barrier.  The  sturdy  Frenchmen, 
driven  back  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  their 
frontier,  beaten  for  weeks,  assaulted  for  two 
days  by  vastly  superior  numbers,  now  dashed 
at  the  vaunted  Imperial  Guards  with  all  the 
elan  of  those  first  shouters  of  the  Marseillaise 
who  smashed  back  the  invading  Prussians  on 
the  bloody  field  of  Valmy  in  1792. 

A  chance  high-explosive  shell  splashed  one 
bastion-nest  of  machine-guns.  The  murderous 
fire  of  the  other  succeeded  in  mowing  down 
only  half  the  new  assailants.  What  was  left 
of  the  blue  line  surged  over  the  inner  breast- 
work and  trench  and  struck  the  defenders  with 
frightful  impact.  Though  superior  in  numbers, 
the  Guards  gave  back  before  the  desperate  fury 
of  the  Territorials.  They  would  have  broken, 
had  not  reserves  rushed  out  from  the  chateau 
to  stiffen  their  ranks  and  swarm  around  the 
flanks  of  the  assailants.  Not  a  prisoner  was 
taken.  Every  Frenchman  fought  with  patriotic 
frenzy  until  pierced  through  and  through  by 
the  Prussian  bayonets. 

Thorpe    heard    Kurt's    awed    cry    above    the 


Besieged  299 

roar  of  the  battle:  "  Such  fighting!  —  and  only 
Territorials!  Lieber  Gott!  Who  can  face  such 
fighting?  " 

A  shell-scream,  a  frightful  explosion  —  and 
the  side  of  the  tower  went  crashing  down- 
wards. A  shell  had  struck  close  below  the 
rash  observers.  Half  stunned,  the  friends  hur- 
ried to  pick  their  way  down  the  wrecked  stair- 
case. This  end  of  the  chateau  was  becoming 
too  hot  for  non-combatants.  Loud  crashes  told 
them  that  the  sides  also  were  being  bombarded. 
They  went  forward  to  the  front,  which  over- 
looked the  marshy  valley  lands. 

Kurt  carried  his  own  superb  field  glasses, 
and  Thorpe  had  retained  the  duke's.  The 
heavy  rainfall  had  cleared  for  a  time  the  Sep- 
tember haze  and  mist.  No  French  guns  were 
in  position  to  shell  the  front  of  the  chateau. 

For  the  remainder  of  that  frightful  after- 
noon the  friends  watched  the  gray  lines  of  the 
Imperial  Guard  recede  down  the  lower  slopes 
and  out  into  the  flooded  Marshes  of  St.  Gond, 
driven  by  the  terrific  fire  of  the  seventy-fives 
and  the  almost  superhuman  ardor  of  the  smaller 
French  force.  With  their  own  guns  mired  in 
the  swamps,  the  defeated  corps  d' elite  broke 
into  wild  rout  before  the  awful  shelling  that 
continued  to  slaughter  them  far  out  into  the 
bog. 

The  setting  sun  of  the  most  crucial  day  in 
modern  history  flooded  plateau  and  plain,  hills 
and  marshes  all  a  deep  blood-red. 

From  Mailly  to  Montmiral,  Foch's  army, 
greatly  inferior  in  numbers  but  directed  by  a 


300  The  Blond  Beast 

master  strategist,  had  out-fought,  out-maneuv- 
ered, hurled  back,  and  put  to  rout  a  quarter- 
million  Prussians  and  Saxons,  the  flower  of 
all  the  German  armies.  On  this  fifteen-mile 
front  of  the  Battle  of  Fere  Champenoise,  the 
combined  losses  of  victors  and  vanquished  totaled 
two  hundred  thousand  casualties,  fifty  thou- 
sand more  than  all  the  forces  engaged  in  the 
Battle  of  Waterloo. 

Kurt  and  Thorpe  saw  only  that  part  of  the 
debacle  that  took  place  in  the  marshes.  But 
they  could  well  imagine  the  equally  frightful 
slaughter  of  the  Saxons  at  Mailly.  No  mortal 
men  —  not  even  the  blond  beasts  of  Nietzsche 
—  could  hope  to  stand  before  those  patriots 
in  most  unscientific  horizon-blue  coats,  who 
charged  and  charged  and  charged,  until  the 
last  one  fell  dead  with  his  bayonet  out-flung 
at  his  foe. 

The  gloomy  closing  down  of  the  dank  even- 
ing mists  broke  the  terrible  fascinating  spell 
of  the  holocaust  that  held  the  friends  in  a  night- 
mare trance.  They  were  astonished  to  realize 
that  the  fight  about  the  chateau  was  still  rag- 
ing—  that  the  garrison  still  held  out  against 
the  desperate  assailants.  Lighted  by  the  elec- 
tric torch  chained  to  Kurt's  coat,  and  keeping 
as  nearly  as  possible  to  the  middle  of  the  castle, 
they  descended  into  the  cellars  to  assure  Lucy  of 
their  safety. 

Nightfall  brought  a  lull  in  the  assault.  The 
French  ceased  their  furious  attempts  to  carry 
the  chateau  by  storm  and  rested  behind  the 
barricades  that  they  had  taken.  But  a  steady 


Besieged  301 

dribble   of   shells   exploded   on   or   around   the 
chateau. 

Von  Pappheim,  making  his  rounds,  was  too 
thorough  to  omit  the  cellars.  He  ordered  Kurt 
on  duty  with  the  inner  guard,  and,  with  a  fair 
degree  of  civility,  requested  Thorpe  and  Lucy 
to  help  attend  the  many  wounded. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
THE   STRATAGEM 

Throughout  the  night  the  defenders  of  the 
chateau  lay  on  their  arms  in  tense  expectancy 
of  surprise  attacks.  None  was  made.  Shortly 
before  daybreak  bottles  of  port  were  passed 
around  to  key  up  the  courage  of  the  chilled 
soldiers  against  the  expected  dawn  assault.  The 
gray  light  in  the  east  reddened  into  a  cloudy 
sunrise  —  and  still  the  French  held  off. 

But  a  view  of  the  neighboring  slopes  and 
adjacent  high  ground  told  that  the  attackers 
were  only  waiting  to  destroy  the  defenders 
without  loss  to  themselves.  The  chateau  was 
now  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  their  redoubled 
forces,  and  a  frightful  burst  of  shell  fire  from 
all  around  told  not  only  that  great  numbers 
of  batteries  had  been  brought  up  during  the 
night,  but  that  among  them  were  guns  much 
larger  than  the  seventy-fives. 

After  one  terrific  salvo,  the  artillery  fell 
silent.  Under  a  white  flag  a  French  staff  officer 
advanced  to  demand  the  unconditional  surrender 
of  the  Prussians.  He  was  blindfolded  and  led 
in  to  where  Von  Pappheim  was  having  a  slight 
scalp  wound  dressed.  Lucy,  in  her  Sister  of 
Mercy  coif  and  white  dress,  was  feeding  broth 

302 


The  Stratagem  303 

to  the  helplessly  wounded  men.  Thorpe  had 
shed  his  surgeon's  coat  to  lift  around  a  new 
batch  of  the  injured.  The  unblindf olded  French- 
man glanced  at  them  with  vivid  interest  and 
gravely  returned  their  bows. 

To  Von  Pappheim  he  bowed  with  punctilious 
and  icy  politeness.  The  statement  of  his  mis- 
sion was  clear-cut  and  direct.  His  commander 
was  prepared  to  blow  the  chateau  into  frag- 
ments. But  to  avert  further  effusion  of  blood 
on  the  part  of  the  gallant  defenders,  the  offer 
was  made  to  accept  their  immediate  uncon- 
ditional surrender. 

Von  Pappheim  asked  for  time. 

11  But,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine,  consider  your 
friends,"  objected  the  Frenchman.  "  We  desire 
to  share  again  their  gay  company.  That  we 
should  move  quickly  is  necessary  if  we  are  to 
accompany  them  on  their  return  tour,  n'est- 
ce  pas?  '• 

11  They  shall  come  again  soon,"  snapped  Von 
Pappheim.  * '  Until  then  I  will  hold  this  strategic 
position." 

* '  Ah,  a  thousand  regrets !  Refusal  is  then 
made  to  surrender  and  save  your  brave  soldiers 
from  inevitable  annihilation?  " 

"  My  orders  are  to  hold  the  chateau  to  the 
last  man.  I  am  a  captain  of  the  Imperial 
Guard.  What  more  need  be  said?  " 

Von  Pappheim 's  tone  was  arrogantly  defiant, 
but  his  mustache  tushes  twitched.  The  French 
had  fought  far  too  superbly  for  the  prediction 
of  annihilation  to  be  considered  empty  brag- 
ging. The  uneasy  glance  of  the  steel-blue  Prus- 


304  The  Blond  Beast 

sian  eyes  chanced  to  turn  towards  Lucy.  The 
Frenchman's  ironic  smile  sobered. 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine.  This  young 
Sister  of  Mercy  —  to  permit  her  to  remain  here 
where  death  is  certain  would  be  barbarous." 

The  lids  of  Von  Pappheim 's  clouded  eyes 
narrowed  to  mask  a  sudden  crafty  glint. 

"  Her  own  choice,"  he  rejoined.  "  Besides, 
she  is  not  a  nun,  only  an  American  woman. 
She  came  here  with  that  Red  Cross  man  over 
there,  to  nurse  the  Duke  of  Montmar." 

* '  Ah !  ah !  the  duke  —  a  brave  officer !  All 
grieved  to  hear  of  his  wound.  You  hold  him 
prisoner?  " 

Von  Pappheim  smiled  sardonically.  "He  — 
and  this  American  friend  of  his  duchess  —  will 
be  as  dead  as  the  rest  of  us  when  you  have 
finished  with  your  annihilating." 

"  Nom  de  Dieu!  "  exclaimed  the  French  offi- 
cer. "  But  if  mademoiselle  is  a  neutral?  And 
the  duke  a  wounded  prisoner  —  Barbarous ! . . . 
Is  there  then  no  escape  for  them,  monsieur?  " 

"  The  duke  is  wounded,  yet  he  is  my  pris- 
oner," said  Von  Pappheim.  "  To  allow  him 
to  go  free  when  you  threaten  to  destroy  all 
my  forces  would  be  farcical.  The  girl  is  obsti- 
nate. She  will  not  go  without  her  patient." 

"  But  you  say  she  is  a  neutral!  " 

"  Himmel!  "  exclaimed  Von  Pappheim,  as  if 
struck  with  a  sudden  thought.  "  We  shall  see 
who  is  the  more  barbarous.  I  offer  to  release 
the  girl  and  her  patient,  if  you  give  one  of 
my  wounded  officers  safe  escort  with  them  to 
your  nearest  hospital." 


The  Stratagem  305 

"  Certainement,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine.  May 
permission  be  asked  for  the  inclusion  of  the 
other  neutral  —  the  American  man?  " 

"  Refused,"  curtly  replied  Von  Pappheim. 

He  drew  out  a  notebook  and  pencil,  and  wrote 
rapidly  in  German: 

"Pass  Red  Cross  touring  car,  with  American 
woman  nurse,  Duke  of  Montmar,  and  wounded 
officer  of  the  Guard.  Von  Pappheim,  Com- 
manding Officer." 

The  French  officer  read  the  pass,  and  wrote 
on  the  next  leaf  of  the  notebook,  in  French: 

"  Provide  escort,  and  pass  to  hospital  at 
Sezanne  —  the  Duke  of  Montmar,  his  American 
nurse,  and  wounded  officer  of  Prussian  Guard, 
in  Red  Cross  touring  car.  On  behalf  of  Com- 
mandant before  the  Chateau  of  Montmar,  Lieu- 
tenant Duvoy,  Aide-de-camp." 

Duvoy  handed  over  the  notebook,  with  a  bow. 

"  The  futile  sacrifice  of  brave  soldiers  is 
always  a  matter  of  profound  regret,  monsieur. 
Half  an  hour's  grace  in  which  to  reconsider 
will  be  given  before  the  commencement  of  the 
bombardment. 

Von  Pappheim  nodded  brusquely,  and  signed 
for  the  Frenchman  to  be  led  out.  He  went 
across  to  Lucy. 

"  A  word  apart  with  you,  fraulein." 

Lucy  beckoned  to  Thorpe.  The  captain 
frowned,  but  led  them  into  an  empty  room. 

"  You  owe  me  thanks,  fraulein,"  he  said.  "  I 
have  persuaded  the  French  fool  to  give  a  pass 
for  you  to  go  with  our  wounded  officers  to  a 
hospital. ' ' 


306  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Oil  —  I  had  not  thought  you  —  It  is  most 
kind,  Herr  Count!  You  haven't  forgotten  that 
Kurt  saved  your  life.  You  will  send  him  with 
me,  and  of  course  Lan  —  Mr.  Thorpe." 

"  My  most  profound  regrets,  fraulein,  but 
the  number  is  strictly  limited.  Seriously 
wounded  officers  must  be  given  first  place." 

"  Then  take  mine  for  another." 

"  But,  fraulein,  the  Frenchman  has  told  what 
is  the  truth.  They  have  brought  up  many  bat- 
teries. The  chateau  will  be  smashed  into  atoms 
by  their  hellish  fire." 

Lucy  gazed  up  at  Thorpe,  her  eyes  darken- 
ing with  anguish. 

"  Then  I  will  die  with  my  —  friend." 

Thorpe's  face  became  grave.  "  Rot!  "  he 
snapped.  "  Don't  be  a  sentimental  noodle,  Loo." 

"  Ach,  fraulein,"  deplored  Von  Pappheim, 
11  that  unaccommodating  French  devil!  Positive 
refusal  was  made  of  permission  for  Herr  Thorpe 
to  go.  Look  for  yourself.  He  is  not  named  in 
the  pass." 

The  girl's  troubled  glance  saw  only  the  angu- 
lar German  script.  She  thrust  the  notebook 
out  to  Thorpe. 

"  You  know  I  don't  read  German.  Besides, 
it  doesn't  matter  the  least  bit.  I  will  not  go 
without  Mr.  Thorpe  —  and  Kurt." 

Von  Pappheim 's  eyes  hardened  to  polished 
steel. 

"You  will  go.     I  command." 

Thorpe  looked  up,  perplexed,  from  the  two 
passes. 

"  What  does  this  mean   about  the   Duke  of 


The  Stratagem  307 

Montmar  going  to  hospital?  "  he  asked.  "  Have 
you  forgotten  he  is  dead?  " 

"  We  shall  have  a  resurrection,  nicht? '' 
answered  Von  Pappheim,  and  he  bent  towards 
Lucy  with  a  show  of  deep  concern.  "  Fraulein, 
the  French  talk  loudly  of  German  barbarities. 
Yet  I  have  planned  this  stratagem  to  save  you 
from  their  murderous  guns.  The  blue  devil 
refused  to  permit  you  or  any  other  person  to 
escape,  until  I  stipulated  that  you  and  one  of 
our  officers  should  be  saved  if  I  released  the 
duke.  I  did  not  say  that  the  duke  is  already 
dead.  We  shall  swathe  up  his  face  in  bandages. 
When  safe  past  the  attackers,  you  can  say  that 
he  died  on  the  way  to  the  hospital.  My  will 
is  that  you  shall  go,  even  if  I  have  to  tie  you 
like  a  pig  for  market." 

Lucy's   eyes   flashed. 

"  Oh,  you  will?  Well,  then,  unless  you  send 
Kurt  and  Mr.  Thorpe  with  me,  I  shall  tell  the 
French  of  the  scheme  to  dupe  them,  and  how 
you  and  your  fellow  Huns  kill  wounded  men 
in  hospitals !  ' ' 

The  steely  blue-white  of  Von  Pappheim 's  eyes 
began  to  redden.  The  veins  on  his  high  fore- 
head swelled.  Thorpe  tensed,  ready  to  leap 
in  for  the  death  struggle.  But  before  the  deter- 
mination in  Lucy's  flashing  eyes  the  Obermann 
curbed  his  anger.  Kultur  requires  that  might 
shall  be  directed  by  the  intellect.  To  give  rein 
to  the  passions  at  a  cost  to  one's  self  that  is 
preventable  is  to  blunder  unscientifically. 

"  So  be  it,"  he  yielded  with  harsh  reluctance. 
"  To  save  you  from  your  willful  foolishness  I 


308  The  Blond  Beast 

will  even  make  a  forgery.  No  one  shall  say 
that  I  permitted  you  to  stay  and  be  killed  by 
those  merciless  blue  devils. —  If  I  send  Herr 
Thorpe  and  Lieutenant  von  Kissel  with  you, 
have  I  your  promise  and  the  word  of  Herr 
Thorpe  to  carry  out  the  stratagem  of  the  duke, 
whoever  the  other  wounded  officer  may  be?" 

' l  Yes  —  yes, '  '  agreed  Thorpe  and  Lucy  in 
a  breath. 

"  Good. —  Give  me  the  French  pass." 

He  took  the  notebook  from  Thorpe,  and  with 
the  art  of  one  skilled  in  secret  service  work, 
changed  from  singular  to  plural  Lieutenant 
Dupoy's  French  words  for  officer  and  nurse. 

"  So  —  It  is  done.  I  have  risked  my  honor 
for  your  sake,  fraulein.  Be  quick.  Make  ready 
our  resurrected  duke  —  his  jaw  tied  up  and  his 
eyes  swathed  about.  His  uniform  and  mustache 
will  be  sufficient  to  dupe  the  French  apes. —  The 
touring  car,  Herr  Thorpe. —  I  will  summon  Lieu- 
tenant von  Kissel." 

"  Wait,"  said  Lucy.  "  My  maid  and  those 
old  servants  —  I  cannot  leave  them." 

"Pfui!  "  hissed  the  aggravated  captain.  "  To 
load  up  with  such  vermin!  —  But  anything,  any- 
thing to  get  you  safe  out  of  this  hell-house, 
liebe  fraulein!  We  can  drop  the  French  menials 
in  their  own  lines. —  Hasten  all.  The  time  is 
too  brief!  " 

He  glanced  at  his  watch,  and  rushed  from 
the  room.  The  others  hastened  to  carry  out 
his  orders.  Thorpe  found  the  car  still  safe  in 
the  garage.  Before  running  it  out  into  the 
shell-pitted  courtyard  he  locked  a  large  can  of 


The  Stratagem  309 

gasoline  with  the  box  of  ducal  treasures  in  the 
car  trunk.  Chilled  by  the  raw  dankness  of  the 
early  morning  air,  he  turned  aside  for  his  sur- 
geon's coat  on  his  dash  back  into  the  chateau 
to  help  Lucy.  The  garment  had  disappeared 
from  the  hook  where  he  had  hung  it. 

He  found  the  elderly  French  maid  loyally  help- 
ing her  mistress  dress  the  disinfectant-drenched 
body  of  the  duke  in  its  uniform  of  a  major  of 
Turcos.  The  eyes  and  jaws  had  been  bandaged 
as  directed  by  Von  Pappheim,  and  Lucy  had 
added  a  semblance  of  a  feverish  flush  by  spot- 
ting the  sunken  cheeks  with  rouge.  As  Thorpe 
stood  staring,  she  noticed  that  he  was  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  and  ran  to  fetch  his  civilian  Red 
Cross  coat. 

With  the  help  of  Marcelle,  they  managed  to 
carry  the  body  downstairs  in  a  blanket.  Kurt 
was  waiting  to  go  out  with  them.  They  found 
Von  Pappheim  at  the  car  with  the  old  French 
servants.  His  left  arm  was  wrapped  in  a 
reversed  uniform  coat.  At  his  orders,  the  duke 's 
body  was  lifted  into  the  tonneau  and  supported 
on  the  rear  seat  between  Lucy  and  Kurt.  Mar- 
celle and  the  gaping  French  servants  were 
crowded  in  by  the  impatient  captain,  who  then 
jumped  up  in  front  beside  Thorpe. 

A  crippled  officer,  now  second  in  command  to 
Von  Pappheim,  came  hobbling  to  ask  that  he 
be  relieved. 

"  Back  to  your  post,"  ordered  Von  Papp- 
heim in  German.  '*  I  will  relieve  you  when 
I  have  conducted  these  non-combatants  to  the 
French  lines.  I  have  arranged  for  Von  Kissel 


310  The  Blond  Beast 

to  escape  and  report  our  urgent  need  of  aid." 

Kurt  nodded  in  confirmation,  his  blue  eyes 
beaming  with  hope. 

"  If  only  I  can  win  through,  and  persuade 
the  High  Commander  into  a  back  stroke!  " 

*  *  God  with  you !  ' '  invoked  the  crippled  officer. 

The  car  rolled  slowly  out  of  the  courtyard 
and  around  the  debris-strewn  drive.  Von  Papp- 
heim  jerked  the  coat  from  his  left  arm,  which 
was  wrapped  about  with  bloody  bandages.  He 
thrust  the  arm  into  a  sling  made  of  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  shook  open  the  coat  to  drape  it, 
right  side  out,  over  his  shoulders.  Lucy  recog- 
nized the  garment  as  Thorpe's  borrowed  sur- 
geon's coat.  But  Thorpe  did  not  see  it.  His 
entire  attention  was  centered  on  the  difficult 
task  of  guiding  the  car  down  the  shell-torn 
drive. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
THE    WAY    OUT 

All  outside  the  castle  the  Prussian  defenses 
had  been  demolished  by  the  French  fire  or  cap- 
tured by  the  assailants.  Less  than  half  way 
to  the  great  gateway,  the  car  was  halted  by  a 
squad  of  fierce-eyed  mud-covered  Turcos,  who 
were  crouched  behind  a  fragment  of  garden 
wall.  Thorpe  *s  heart  leaped  into  his  throat. 
If  the  Africans  were  of  the  duke's  own  regi- 
ment they  might  try  to  talk  with  his  corpse. 

Von  Pappheim  did  not  lack  self-possession 
and  adroitness.  He  thrust  out  the  French  pass 
to  the  wounded  young  Parisian  in  command  of 
the  Turcos,  and  spoke  quickly,  in  a  tone  of 
sympathetic  concern: 

"  As  you  see,  monsieur,  the  duke  is  in  a  bad 
way.  The  sooner  we  get  him  through  to  a 
good  hospital  the  better. " 

The  lieutenant  handed  back  the  pass,  with 
a  sharp  gesture  for  the  party  to  proceed.  Thorpe 
looked  at  Von  Pappheim,  expecting  him  to 
get  out  and  walk  back  to  the  chateau.  He  was 
met  by  a  stern  command: 

"  Drive  on,  fool!  We  have  been  passed. 
Hasten  —  The  duke  will  die!  " 

The  sight  of  his   own   surgeon  coat   on  the 

311 


312  The  Blond  Beast 

captain's  shoulders  quickened  Thorpe's  percep- 
tion. He  sent  the  car  rolling  forward.  What 
matter  if  Von  Pappheim  was  deserting  his  com- 
mand?—  Not  to  be  rid  of  him  was  a  bitter 
disappointment.  But  the  main  thing  now  was 
to  get  Lucy  clear  away  from  the  chateau. 

The  succeeding  French  lines  were  as  easily 
negotiated  as  the  first,  and  the  road  was  less 
shell  pitted  on  down  the  hill.  Even  the  younger 
French  officers  spared  only  a  deferential  glance 
or  two  for  Lucy  and  the  "  wounded  "  duke. 
All  were  on  tiptoe,  waiting  for  the  bombard- 
ment of  the  chateau  to  begin. 

Down  in  the  valley  a  bearded  major  of  Ter- 
ritorials read  the  pass  with  more  care  than 
his  predecessors.  He  ordered  a  pair  of  keen- 
eyed  chasseurs  into  the  tonneau,  in  place  of  the 
old  servant  couple.  But  at  Lucy's  protest,  Mar- 
celle  was  permitted  to  go  on  with  the  party. 
Lucy  draped  the  face  of  her  ghastly  seat-mate, 
as  if  to  shade  it  from  the  out-shining  sun. 

The  guards  crowded  in  beside  Marcelle,  and 
sat  facing  Lucy  and  Kurt  and  the  corpse.  Von 
Pappheim  glanced  askance  at  their  backs,  over 
his  shoulder,  and  smiled  grimly. 

Just  before  Thorpe  brought  the  now  speeding 
car  to  the  Sezanne-Epernay  road  the  air  was 
rent  with  a  terrific  outer  ashing  roar.  The 
French  batteries  had  begun  the  bombardment. 
All  around  and  about  the  grand  old  castle  burst 
a  multitude  of  shells,  whose  out-puffing  smoke 
merged  into  a  gray  pall. 

The  chasseurs  sprang  erect  in  the  tonneau, 
to  shout  for  France  and  victory.  Von  Pappheim 


The  Way  Out  313 

swept  his  glance  around.  The  only  French 
troops  in  sight  were  to  the  rear,  and  all  were 
peering  up  at  the  doomed  castle  on  the  hill  top. 
He  jerked  out  a  concealed  pistol,  gave  the  outer- 
most guard  a  hard  shove  sideways,  and  shot 
him  through  the  head.  Already  overbalanced, 
the  dying  man  pitched  down  into  the  road.  As 
the  other  chasseur  whirled  around,  a  bullet 
pierced  his  heart.  He  sagged  down  and  fell 
backwards  with  his  head  in  Lucy's  lap. 

Thorpe  had  instinctively  thrown  out  the  clutch 
and  applied  the  emergency  brake.  The  car  came 
to  a  stand.  Von  Pappheim  pointed  his  pistol 
at  the  shrieking  Marcelle. 

"  Jump  out,  you  squealing  sow,"  he  ordered 
—  "  No,  not  you,  fraulein,  else  I  shoot  our  dear 
friend  Thorpe. —  Quick,  French  squealer.  Out 
with  you,  or  I  shoot  you,  too." 

The  elderly  maid,  already  nerve-broken  by 
her  terrible  experiences  during  the  invasion, 
scrambled  from  the  car  so  flurriedly  that  she 
fell  face  down  in  the  road.  Von  Pappheim  had 
turned  to  dig  his  pistol  muzzle  into  Thorpe's 
ribs. 

"  Drive  on  —  to  the  right  —  to  Epernay!  "  he 
commanded.  "  Drive  like  the  devil!  " 

Thorpe  threw  in  the  clutch  and  sent  the  car 
lurching  forward.  At  the  junction  of  the  main 
road  he  turned  north  towards  the  Marne,  as 
ordered.  To  drive  at  any  speed  along  the  shell- 
pitted  macadam,  required  his  utmost  skill  and 
closest  attention.  As  the  car  corkscrewed  and 
bounced  and  jolted  along  its  bumpy  course,  Von 
Pappheim  flung  off  the  surgeon's  coat  and  smiled 


314  The  Blond  Beast 

grimly  at  the  living  occupants  of  the  tonneau. 

"  Why  so  horrified,  fraulein?  "  he  mocked. 
' '  War  is  war.  Strong  situations  require  stronger 
methods ...  And  you,  Von  Kissel  —  I  did  not 
think  you  so  white-livered.  But  as  well  you 
made  no  attempt  to  draw  your  pistol.  I  have 
been  watching  you  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye. ' ' 

Kurt's  eyes  flashed.  "  We  shall  see,  if  you 
attempt  to  harm  my  betrothed." 

"  Have  I  not  given  my  word  to  bring  you 
safe  to  the  High  Commander!  "  reproved  Von 
Pappheim.  "  Oblige  me,  fraulein,  with  the  chas- 
seur's rifle  and  cap." 

The  point  of  the  bayonet  on  the  rifle  had 
caught  in  the  front  of  the  duke's  uniform.  Lucy 
disentangled  it  and  gently  lifted  the  kepi  from 
the  head  on  her  lap. 

"  Now  the  coat,"  said  Von  Pappheim.  "  I 
shall  pass  as  one  of  those  traitor  schweine 
who  deserted  to  France  from  Alsace." 

As  soon  as  the  coat  was  off,  he  opened  the 
tonneau  door  and  rolled  the  chasseur  out  among 
the  carcasses  of  horses  and  the  corpses  of  French 
and  Prussians  that  were  thickly  strewn  along- 
side the  road.  A  few  moments  later  he  had 
on  the  kepi  and  long  blue  coat.  He  sat,  rifle 
in  hand,  to  all  appearances  a  French  chasseur 
of  Alsatian  parentage. 

The  car  was  now  pounding  slowly  along 
through  the  ruck  and  welter  of  swamp  and 
battle-wreckage.  For  the  first  mile  the  flotsam 
and  jettison  of  the  awful  war-storm  had 
increased  in  quantity  and  ghastliness  —  broken 
down  trucks  and  caissons,  guns  bogged  to  the 


The  Way  Out  315 

trunnions  out  in  the  mud  and  water,  knap- 
sacks, clothing,  broken  rifles,  bodies  of  men 
and  horses,  in  whole  and  in  parts;  worst  of 
all,  wounded  men  crying  piteously  from  the 
edge  of  the  shell-ripped  road. 

In  places  the  up-built  macadam  had  been  so 
blasted  away  that  its  telford  sub-bed  was  over- 
flowed with  the  crimsoned  slime  of  the  swamps. 
Thorpe's  best  efforts  could  not  have  worried 
the  car  across,  had  not  French  engineers,  during 
the  night,  filled  in  the  worst  holes  and  heaved 
the  more  bulky  obstacles  out  of  the  roadway. 
Von  Pappheim  cursed  virulently  as  he  gazed 
at  the  number  of  guns  that  could  be  seen  to 
the  eastward,  far  out  in  the  heart  of  the  marshes, 
where  the  routed  Guards  had  been  driven  by 
the  cross-charges  of  Turcos  from  the  west. 

The  far  side  of  the  swamps  bounded  the 
worst  of  the  slaughter,  though  the  debacle  had 
continued  on  across  country  towards  the  Marne. 
On  the  left,  the  Moroccans  had  hurled  back 
Von  Billow's  Hanoverians,  along  with  the 
Prussians. 

The  road  presently  became  much  better.  The 
party  soon  came  in  view  of  French  patrols  that 
were  beating  the  woods  and  coppices  for  squads 
of  fugitive  Germans.  Ahead  appeared  French 
munition  trains  and  long  columns  of  reserves, 
all  streaming  north  towards  the  Marne. 

At  Von  Pappheim 's  command,  Kurt  put  on 
the  surgeon's  coat  and  hid  his  spiked  helmet. 
When  the  car  overtook  the  troops,  it  whirled 
along  beside  them,  honking  for  the  right  of 
way  with  the  imperiousness  of  a  General  Staff 


316  The  Blond  Beast 

machine.  Audacity,  the  chasseur's  uniform,  and 
the  Red  Cross,  carried  the  party  clear  through 
to  where  a  desperate  rear-guard  action  was 
delaying  the  French  rush  at  Epernay.  Here 
the  car  veered  west,  behind  the  main  French 
forces,  found  a  hole  in  the  line,  and  slipped 
through  to  the  Marne. 

Once  in  sight  of  the  retreating  German  rear- 
guard, Von  Pappheim  stripped  off  the  chasseur's 
coat  and  climbed  over  into  the  tonneau.  With 
a  jeer  of  mock  adieu,  he  wrenched  the  corpse 
of  the  Duke  of  Montmar  out  of  the  overstrained 
grasp  of  Lucy  and  Kurt,  and  dumped  it  into 
the  road  behind  the  car.  Overcome  by  the  hor- 
ror of  this,  Lucy  swooned  for  the  first  time 
in  all  her  frightful  weeks  in  the  maelstrom 
of  war. 

North  of  the  Marne  there  was,  in  places,  some 
degree  of  orderliness  about  the  German  retreat. 
While  Kurt  held  Lucy  on  the  rear  seat  with 
his  one  arm  and  sought  to  revive  her,  Thorpe 
obeyed  Von  Pappheim 's  command  to  zigzag  east- 
wards. Lucy  had  hardly  recovered  conscious- 
ness when  the  headquarters  of  the  Guard  Corps 
staff  were  located. 

Von  Pappheim,  who  had  removed  the  bloody 
bandage  from  his  uninjured  left  arm,  reported 
that  he  and  Lieutenant  von  Kissel  had  broken 
through  the  French  lines  to  seek  aid  for  the 
chateau's  garrison.  The  staff  officers  stared 
at  him  as  if  he  were  idiotic.  Their  half -distracted 
commander  peremptorily  ordered  him  to  report 
for  duty  at  the  Epernay  bridgehead.  Even  as 
the  general  spoke,  he  turned  away  to  catch  an 


The  Way  Out  317 

in-rushing  aide's  report  of  fresh  rout,  and  to 
snap  out  an  order  meant  to  block  the  disaster. 
Von  Pappheim  had  no  choice  but  to  salute  and 
hasten  off.  Outside  he  scowled  as  he  strode 
past  where  Thorpe  and  Lucy  were  waiting  in 
the  car. 

More  aides  dashed  in  with  reports  —  and 
rushed  out  again  with  orders.  Very  soon  a 
moment  came  when  two  messengers  were 
required,  though  there  was  only  one  aide  at 
hand.  The  general  glanced  around,  caught  sight 
of  Kurt,  and  flung  at  him  one  of  the  orders. 
Kurt  ran  out  just  in  time  to  head  off  an  aide 
who  had  ridden  his  horse  to  death  and  was 
requisitioning  the  car  at  the  point  of  a  pistol. 

As  Thorpe  raced  away  with  them,  Kurt  ex- 
plained to  Lucy  that  his  use  of  the  car  for  staff 
work  was  the  only  way  to  keep  her  from  being 
set  afoot.  The  trip  took  them  back  across  the 
Marne  and  into  the  danger  zone  of  the  French 
seventy-fives.  On  their  return,  Thorpe  insisted 
that  Lucy  should  stop  at  a  field  hospital.  She 
submitted  to  his  vigorous  handgrip,  offered  her 
cheek  to  Kurt,  and  set  to  dressing  wounds. 

All  the  remainder  of  that  second  disastrous 
day  and  all  that  night  Thorpe  served  his  friend 
as  chauffeur.  By  morning  Von  Hausen  had 
managed  to  get  the  last  of  his  shattered  army 
across  the  Marne.  Some  of  the  less  battered 
corps  were  sufficiently  re-formed  to  delay  the 
French  pursuit  with  well-sustained  rearguard 
actions. 

In  this  they  were  aided  by  Foch's  diversion 
of  a  part  of  his  little  army  to  attack  a  new 


318  The  Blond  Beast 

foe.  East  of  Mm  the  Duke  of  Wurttemberg's 
army  was  rather  more  than  holding  its  own 
against  the  next  French  army.  But  the  duke's 
flank  had  been  exposed  by  the  flight  of  the  Guard 
and  Saxons.  Foch  struck  it  a  lightning  side 
blow.  This  started  a  general  retreat,  that  did 
not  end  until  both  Wurttemberg  and  the  Crown 
Prince  were  back  in  the  Argonne. 

To  the  west,  Von  Kluck  and  Von  Billow 
were  sharing  Von  Hausen's  retreat  to  the  Aisne, 
abandoning  in  places  immense  quantities  of 
munitions  and  equipment.  Had  there  been  a 
single  corps  of  French  reserves  to  dash  into 
the  shattered  German  center,  the  mightiest  war- 
machine  of  all  history  would  have  been  put  to 
utter  rout.  Even  as  it  was,  Foch's  depleted 
little  army,  despite  exhaustion  from  its  tremen- 
dous exertions,  continued  to  hammer  back  Von 
Hausen's  vastly  superior  numbers.  The  other 
French  armies,  everywhere  inferior  in  numbers 
to  their  opponents,  shared  in  the  smashing  drive 
that  did  not  end  until  the  invincible  host  of 
Deutschland  took  refuge  in  the  howitzer-pro- 
tected trenches  that  had  been  prepared  for  its 
"  strategic  retreat." 

On  the  eleventh,  Thorpe  and  Kurt,  taking 
advantage  of  a  dispatch  to  the  Aisne,  had  shifted 
Lucy  to  Eheims.  There  Kurt  met  a  friend  in 
the  Commissariat,  who  was  able  to  arrange  a 
railway  passage  for  Lucy  to  Brussels.  She 
refused  to  go  without  Thorpe  unless  certain  he 
was  no  longer  in  danger  from  Von  Hausen.  She 
believed  Kurt's  assurance  that  Von  Pappheim 
could  not  now  harm  Thorpe.  But  she  seemed 


The  Way  Out  319 

obsessed  by  the  threat  of  the  High  Commander 
to  execute  him  as  her  spy  accomplice. 

In  vain  Kurt  told  her  the  rumor  that  the 
Kaiser  had  said  Von  Hausen  should  have  shot 
himself  after  so  disgraceful  a  defeat. —  But  then 
came  the  official  announcement  that  Von  Hausen 
had  been  relieved  of  his  command.  Lucy  per- 
mitted herself  to  be  reassured. 

At  the  same  time  Kurt  received  orders  to  go 
home  on  sick  leave.  Thorpe  felt  a  sudden  long- 
ing to  see  Elsa.  But  Lucy  would  hear  nothing 
of  accompanying  them  to  Berlin.  To  the  intense 
distress  of  Kurt,  she  insisted  upon  going  to 
Brussels. 

"  I've  had  enough  of  war  to  last  me  for 
a  lifetime,"  she  shudderingly  replied  to  his 
pleadings.  "  No  doubt  the  American  minister 
at  Brussels  can  help  me  get  to  England  by  way 
of  Holland.  I  want  to  go  home,  out  of  all 
this.  I  don't  want  to  seem  hard,  Kurt,  but 
the  very  sight  of  your  soldiers  sickens  me. 
After  the  war  you  can  come  over,  and  we  will 
see  how  I  feel.  Until  then  I  shall  consider 
myself  bound  by  our  engagement/' 

"  My  betrothed!  "  murmured  Kurt,  his  mild 
eyes  violet  with  love.  "  God  grant  I  may  come 
to  you  soon!  " 

Her  parting  with  Thorpe  was  —  on  the  sur- 
face —  very  offhand  and  comradelike.  '  *  My  love 
to  Elsa,  and  kind  remembrances  to  the  mother. 
Watch  out  for  the  herr  count." 

"  Neither  Kurt  nor  I  have  seen  or  heard  of 
him  this  side  the  Marne,"  replied  Thorpe. 

"  Well,  don't  go  out  of  your  way  to  stir  up 


320  The  Blond  Beast 

the  tigers,  Lan.  They're  ferocious  enough. " 
Kurt's  commissariat  friend  had  provided  a 
German  Red  Cross  deaconess  as  chaperon  for 
the  herr  lieutenant's  betrothed.  This  rather 
salved  Thorpe's  conscience  as  he  and  Kurt 
watched  the  train  bear  Lucy  away  on  her  lonely 
journey.  Yet  he  felt  a  half  guilty  uneasiness 
that  lingered  in  his  consciousness  until  over- 
borne by  his  happy  anticipations  as  another 
train  swept  him  and  Kurt  Berlin-ward.  Behind 
them  they  left  Lucy's  war-roughed  car,  still  in 
the  service  of  the  Guard  Staff.  But  Kurt  car- 
ried as  part  of  his  baggage  the  strong-box  with 
the  ducal  treasures  rescued  by  Thorpe. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
WHEN    INTEKESTS    CHANGE 

From  a  region  of  death  and  destruction,  fear 
and  oppression,  misery,  fighting  and  famine, 
the  returning  friends  passed  in  a  night  across 
the  frontier  into  another  world  —  a  world 
strangely  like  and  yet  unlike  the  hell-world  they 
had  left. 

Everywhere  the  spirit  of  war  was  rampant, 
though  the  land  lay  fat  and  smiling  in  peace- 
ful security.  Here  was  no  pillaging  and  out- 
raging, no  burning  of  homes,  bombarding  of 
cathedrals,  murdering  of  women  and  children. 
Here  war  was  glorious,  and  not  a  thing  of 
shame  and  horror.  Every  soldier  from  the 
front  was  a  hero.  Militarism  was  triumphant. 
Even  the  Socialists  had  been  seized  with  the 
wild  delirium  of  the  war-fever. 

In  all  the  Fatherland  no  one  was  cruelly  mis- 
treated—  except  the  unfortunate  war  prisoners. 
They  were  being  shipped  to  the  prison  camps 
in  filthy  cattle-cars,  without  food  or  water, 
reviled,  struck  and  spat  upon.  Even  the  wounded 
in  their  agony  were  mocked  by  Bed  Cross 
women,  who  offered  them  cups  of  cool  water 
—  not  in  the  name  of  Christ  —  and  with  derisive 
laughter  spilled  out  the  life-saving  drink  before 
a  drop  had  touched  their  fever-parched  lips. 

321 


322  The  Blond  Beast 

Hardly  less  harsh  was  the  treatment  of  the 
civilian  enemy  aliens.  Men  and  women  alike 
had  been  seized  and  incarcerated  in  the  box 
stalls  and  hay  lofts  of  the  vile  detention  camp 
at  Euhleben. 

All  the  land  was  aflame  with  a  hell-fire  of 
hate,  derision  and  triumph.  Here  was  none 
of  the  mortification  and  humiliation,  the  bitter 
shame  and  furious  chagrin,  that  had  eaten  like 
acid  into  the  pride  of  the  arrogant  invaders 
of  North  France.  The  Kaiser-controlled  press 
and  pulpit  and  rostrum  had  already  explained 
away  that  disastrous  rout  and  backward  flight 
from  the  Marne  as  a  withdrawal  for  strategic 
purposes.  As  soon  as  reinforcements  should 
arrive,  the  invincible  army  of  the  Fatherland 
would  advance  again  and  blot  France  off  the 
map. 

Hate,  that  most  frightful  of  all  the  human 
passions,  had  become  a  Government-inspired 
cult.  Deutschland  was  singing  hymns  in  wor- 
ship of  war  and  the  blond  beast.  Scientists, 
soldiers,  and  ministers  called  Christian,  had 
acclaimed  the  German  race  as  morally  and  intel- 
lectually high  above  all  other  races;  and  in  the 
same  breath  lauded  the  shelling  of  Bheims 
cathedral,  the  burning  of  the  Louvain  library, 
the  Hun-like  destruction  of  world-famous  art 
treasures,  the  infliction  of  pain  and  misery, 
and  the  crushing  of  free  peoples. 

Why  should  the  Super  race  spare  the  base 
under  races  in  the  inevitable  triumphant  on- 
surge  to  its  place  in  the  sun  and  the  fulfill- 
ment of  its  glorious  destiny  as  dominator  of 


When  Interests  Change  323 

the  world?    Let  Deutschland's  enemies  beware! 

"  War  is  the  king  and  father  of  all,  neces- 
sary and  glorious.  We  have  nothing  to  apolo- 
gize for.  They  call  us  barbarians.  What  of 
it?  We  feel  no  shame... Gott  strafe  the  Rus- 
sian beasts,  the  silly  Belgian  fanatics,  the  degen- 
erate French  —  above  all,  the  false,  envious 
Engldnder  schweine,  whose  contemptible  little 
army  of  mercenaries  kept  us  from  rolling  up 
the  French  flank  and  cheated  our  heroic  Crown 
Prince  of  his  Sedan  Day  in  Paris ! . . .  Against 
all  our  enemies  let  there  be  only  hate  —  and  hate 
also  for  the  greedy  Americans,  who  are  selling 
their  powder  and  shells  to  kill  our  brave  heroes. 
Teach  hate,  act  hate,  cultivate  the  desire  to 
hate.  To  us  is  given  faith,  hope  and  hatred, 
but  the  greatest  of  these  is  hatred!  " 

Such  was  the  talk  of  civilians  and  soldiers,  of 
men  and  women,  all  the  long  journey  to  Berlin. 
Thorpe  did  not  realize  the  savage  depth  and 
intensity  of  this  volcanic  eruption  of  hell-fire 
until  he  happened  to  speak  in  English  to  Kurt 
within  hearing  of  a  group  of  minor  officials. 
Before  this,  his  Red  Cross  sleeve  bands,  his 
idiomatic,  high-class  German  speech  and  the 
companionship  of  Kurt  had  won  him  a  half 
share  of  the  flattering  attentions  showered  upon 
the  returning  officer  heroes. 

Now  his  infuriated  train-mates  denounced  and 
cursed  him  as  an  English  spy.  He  was  struck 
and  spat  at,  and  would  have  been  dragged  off 
the  train  under  arrest  had  not  Kurt  shouted 
down  the  false  charges.  He  repeated  over  and 
over  again  that  Thorpe  was  not  British,  but  an 


324  The  Blond  Beast 

American  Red  Cross  volunteer  who  had  helped 
save  an  officer  of  the  Imperial  Guard.  When 
at  last  the  truth  had  been  hammered  into  the 
thick  Teutonic  heads,  the  fury  of  Thorpe's 
assailants  transformed  itself  into  a  gush  of 
sentimentality  like  the  slaver  and  gloze  of  boar 
hounds.  There  were  many  emotional  apologies 
and  much  uncorking  of  beer.  Thorpe  thought 
of  Elsa,  and  for  Kurt's  sake  tried  to  be  cordial. 

Smoothly  as  all  train  service  was  now  being 
operated  throughout  Germany,  a  movement  of 
troops  caused  a  change  that  brought  Kurt  and 
Thorpe  into  Berlin  a  full  two  hours  ahead  of 
the  scheduled  time.  As  they  came  out  of  the 
station  with  their  scant  war-scarred  baggage, 
an  enthusiastic  merchant  insisted  upon  loaning 
them  his  limousine  and  chauffeur. 

The  drive  through  the  city  astonished  Thorpe 
and  even  Kurt.  Berlin  was  not  only  busier  and 
livelier  and  gayer  than  before  the  outbreak  of 
war,  but  it  more  than  ever  swarmed  with  sol- 
diers. While  the  grimy  shell-torn  armies  of 
the  invasion  lay  behind  the  howitzer-guarded 
trenches  of  the  Aisne  line,  panting  from  their 
rearward  race,  vast  numbers  of  officers  and 
men  swaggered  the  streets  of  the  imperial  capi- 
tal in  all  the  garish  panoply  of  military  parade 
dress. 

The  sober  field  gray  was  conspicuous  by  its 
absence.  Instead,  Berlin  was  dazzled  as  usual, 
or  more  than  usual,  by  generals  in  gold  and 
blue,  jagers  in  vivid  green,  arrogant  hussars 
in  blazing  red.  Scabbards  flashed  like  mirrors; 
spurred  heels  clicked.  Near  the  Thiergarten, 


When  Interests  Change  325 

Kurt  held  his  hand  at  salute  as  the  limousine 
whirled  past  a  goose-stepping  regiment  of  the 
Guard. 

But  Thorpe  gave  all  this  military  display 
only  momentary  attention.  He  no  more  than 
glanced  up  at  the  huge  amber-hued  Zeppelin 
that  floated  over  the  city  like  a  Brobdingnagian 
gas-filled  cigar.  Enthusiastic  Germans  had  been 
telling  him  that  these  instruments  of  Teutonic 
scientific  warfare  would  soon  blow  all  London 
to  hell.  He  was  not  interested  in  hellish 
machines.  He  had  had  his  fill  of  scientific  war- 
fare. His  whole  being  longed  to  forget  all  that 
horror  of  blood  and  frightfulness  and  misery 
in  the  angelic  peace  of  Elsa's  love. 

A  big  gray  car  was  waiting  in  the  drive  of 
the  Von  Kissel  villa.  Thorpe  hardly  observed 
it.  His  eager  glance  had  fixed  upon  the  flower 
beds  where  he  had  botanized  the  June  blossoms 
with  his  beloved  Elsa...All  the  flowers  were 
gone,  and  the  plants  looked  sear  and  blighted. 

Kurt  gaily  waved  his  uninjured  arm  towards 
the  gray  car  as  they  sprang  from  the  limousine. 

"  See,  Allan.  The  mother  and  Elsa  have 
not  yet  started  for  the  station.  Some  kind 
friend  of  the  Guard  has  come  to  take  them  to 
meet  us.  But  we  have  stolen  a  march  on  them 
—  mcht?  " 

Regardless  of  his  wound  and  the  dignity  of 
his  higher  rank  and  Iron  Cross,  he  scampered 
ahead  like  a  boy.  Thorpe  paused  to  tip  the 
chauffeur,  who  had  leaped  down  to  hand  out 
the  baggage.  He  could  not  forget  his  responsi- 
bility for  the  coffer  of  treasure  belonging  to 


326  The  Blond  Beast 

Lucy's  friend,  Duchess  Polly,  even  as  he  thrilled 
with  blissful  anticipations  of  Elsa's  kisses.  Box 
in  hand,  he  hurried  after  Kurt.  The  door  of 
the  villa  was  locked.  Thorpe  was  at  the  steps 
before  it  leisurely  swung  open  in  response  to 
Kurt's  impatient  clanging  of  the  old-fashioned 
doorbell. 

Framed  in  the  opening  Thorpe  saw  a  vision 
of  blond  loveliness,  most  stylishly  attired  in  a 
Parisian  motoring  costume.  With  a  shriek  of 
joy,  the  vision  flung  herself  at  Kurt.  He  dodged 
just  quickly  enough  to  save  his  half-healed 
wound  by  taking  the  impact  on  his  left  shoulder. 

"  Gently  —  gently,  eager  one,"  he  chided. 
"  You  are  most  tender,  but  so  is  my  hurt." 

He  gave  the  disconcerted  girl  an  emphatic 
brotherly  kiss,  whirled  her  about  towards 
Thorpe,  and  dashed  into  the  house.  Thorpe 
was  springing  forward.  For  the  first  time  Elsa 
caught  sight  of  him.  Her  bewildered  face 
instantly  became  radiant  with  love  and  joy.  She 
flung  out  her  arms  to  Thorpe.  He  dropped  the 
box  and  caught  her  to  him.  His  lips  pressed 
upon  her  delicious  lips,  upon  her  scarlet  cheeks, 
upon  her  soulfully  tender  eyes. 

* '  Darling !  —  my   darling  !  "   he   murmured. 

But  then,  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had  changed 
into  a  monster,  the  blissful  radiance  of  the 
girPs  look  vanished.  Her  eyes  dilated  with 
grief  and  dread;  her  blushes  faded  into  the 
pallor  of  panic.  She  jerked  her  arms  from 
about  his  neck,  to  push  against  his  breast  with 
convulsive  force. 

"  Achl  achl  I  forgot!"  she  panted.     "God 


When  Interests  Change  327 

help  us! —  Let  me  go!  You  must  not  hold  me! 
It  is  —  is  wicked  —  sinful !  ' ' 

Thorpe  was  amazed.  Yet  he  held  fast  against 
her  struggle  to  thrust  free. 

"  Wicked?  "  he  remonstrated.  "  When  we 
are  to  be  married!  " 

"  Nein!  nein!  —  Ach!  lieber  Gottt  I  am  — 
betrothed  to  —  another !  " 

Stunned  by  the  blow,  Thorpe  stood  motion- 
less while  the  girl  thrust  herself  out  of  his 
relaxing  arms  and  fled  into  the  house.  The 
first  impulse  that  stirred  his  benumbed  brain 
was  the  instinct  that  drives  a  stricken  creature 
to  creep  off  alone.  He  turned  gropingly  towards 
the  drive.  His  foot  was  half  down  to  the  first 
step  when  a  flash  of  pain  and  anger  stabbed 
through  his  daze  and  roused  him  to  clear  con- 
sciousness. He  turned  about  and  walked  reso- 
lutely into  the  house. 

Joyful  exclamations  came  from  the  parlor. 
Thorpe  first  saw  Kurt  standing  with  his  sound 
arm  clasped  about  his  weeping,  smiling,  over- 
joyed mother.  Like  Elsa,  she  was  dressed  for 
the  trip  to  the  station.  Thorpe  recognized  the 
magnificent  set  of  furs  looted  from  the  chateau 
that  had  been  Von  Hausen's  headquarters  after 
the  battle  of  Mons-Charleroi.  In  the  far  corner 
of  the  parlor  was  the  rosewood  piano  that  Kurt 
had  at  the  same  time  shipped  to  his  beloved 
sister. 

Another  step  brought  Thorpe  through  the 
parlor  doorway  into  full  view  of  the  room. 
At  the  left,  resplendent  in  the  dress  uniform 
of  a  major  of  the  Imperial  Guard,  decorated 


328  The  Blond  Beast 

with  the  Iron  Cross  and  the  Eed  Eagle,  stood 
Von  Pappheim.  He  looked  arrogantly  at  Thorpe, 
his  thin  lips  curving  in  a  cynical  smile  that 
tilted  the  tushes  of  his  yellowish-white  mustache. 

Thorpe  gave  him  a  cold  nod  of  recognition, 
and  looked  around  for  Elsa.  She  was  not  in 
the  room.  He  stepped  forward  towards  her 
mother.  As  Frau  von  Kissel  caught  sight  of 
him  her  beaming  face  sobered  and  dulled  to  a 
look  of  heavy  obstinacy  that  held  more  than 
a  hint  of  resentment.  Kurt  stared  from  her  to 
Thorpe  and  back  again,  suddenly  dashed  and 
perplexed. 

"  Have  you  no  welcome  for  Allan,  mother 
—  for  my  heart's  friend  —  for  Elsa's  beloved?  " 
he  reproached. 

"  NeinI  "  she  denied.  "  Not  Elsa's  beloved. 
That  was  all  a  mistake.  I  have  sad  news  for 
you,  lieber  son.  My  kind  cousin  whose  beard 
Elsa  could  not  endure  has  been  reported  killed 
on  the  Eussian  front.  The  will  leaves  half  to 
you  and  half  to  Elsa,  the  ungrateful  child  I  She 
now  has  a  real  dot.  A  high  honor  also  has 
come  to  her,  undeserving  as  she  is.  I  have 
accepted  for  her  the  marriage  proposals  of 
Count  Wolf  von  Pappheim." 

'  *  Mother !  ' '  cried  Kurt  — ' '  When  you  know 
how  she  and  Allan  love!  " 

"  She  will  no  longer  love  an  unwealthy, 
untitled  foreigner.  She  has  now  her  large  dot 
and  the  love  of  her  betrothed,  the  high-born 
Count  von  Pappheim.  A  dutiful  wife  can  love 
only  her  husband." 

Thorpe  had  at  last  got  himself  in  hand. 


When  Interests  Change  329 

"  Tante,"  he  appealed,  "  I  loved  Elsa  and 
I  won  her  love  when  her  dot  was  too  small  for 
the  herr  count  to  notice  her  loveliness.  You 
gave  your  consent.  She  is  promised  to  me." 

"  I  have  recalled  my  assent,  my  good  Allant. 
You  must  not  be  selfish.  You  must  think  how 
much  the  better  match  it  will  be  for  her  to  be 
upraised  to  the  high  position  of  a  countess." 

"  She  loves  me  —  she  still  loves  me,"  insisted 
Thorpe.  "  How  can  you  make  her  suffer  so? 
Von  Pappheim  has  no  right  to  her.  She  is 
engaged  to  me.  I  ask  you  to  keep  your  word 
to  us." 

"  But  I  did  not  give  my  word.  A  woman 
has  none  to  give.  She  is  not  an  officer.  Besides, 
a  promise  is  not  binding  when  it  becomes  not 
to  one's  best  interests  to  keep  it... And  Elsa 
was  not  betrothed  to  you.  She  is  betrothed  to 
the  herr  count.  The  announcements  have  been 
made." 

Kurt  confronted  his  mother,  stern-faced,  no 
longer  a  boy. 

"  I  will  not  consent  to  this  dishonor,"  he 
said.  "  The  announcements  shall  be  recalled." 

The  determined  frau  wavered  before  the 
authority  of  the  head  of  the  family,  but  Von 
Pappheim  stepped  forward  within  the  scope 
of  her  uncertain  glance.  His  face  was  domineer- 
ingly haughty.  She  rallied  to  renewed  stub- 
bornness. 

"It  is  too  late,"  she  asserted.  "  The  herr 
count  has  willed  an  early  marriage.  You  sent 
so  many  trunks  of  lovely  Parisian  gowns  and 
lady's  wear  that  no  delay  was  needed  to  pre- 


330  The  Blond  Beast 

pare  a  trousseau.  The  wedding  is  to  be  a  week 
from  to-day." 

"Trunks  —  Parisian  gowns?  "  exclaimed 
Kurt.  "I  sent  nothing  like  that." 

"They  are  Lucy's,"  explained  Thorpe.  "  She 
had  her  trunks  sent  here  from  the  Castle  of 
Montmar.  As  your  betrothed,  she  thought  they 
would  be  safe  at  your  home.  I  can  hardly 
believe  that  the  herr  count  would  enjoy  seeing 
his  bride  wear  the  used  gowns  of  the  lady  who 
gave  him  the  basket." 

Von  Pappheim  put  a  hand  on  the  hilt  of 
his  sword. 

"  Pfui!  —  I  will  endure  no  insults  from  a 
low  outland  dog." 

"  Is  that  well  spoken  to  my  friend,  who  helped 
save  your  life?  "  thrust  Kurt. 

"  Masters  owe  small  thanks  for  the  services 
of  underlings,"  replied  Von  Pappheim.  "  I 
far  more  than  evened  the  score  by  bringing 
him  and  you  safe  out  of  Montmar." 

"  Ach!  ach!  You  have  forgotten  that,  you 
two,"  chided  Frau  von  Kissel.  "  Be  shamed! 
Where  is  your  gratitude?  " 

"  So  he  has  duped  you,  poor  foolish  mother!  " 
pitied  Kurt.  "  He  would  have  left  us  to  be 
blown  to  pieces,  had  not  Lucy,  who  is  now 
my  betrothed,  refused  to  leave  without  us.  He 
had  to  have  her  to  help  carry  out  his  ghastly 
cheat  with  the  dead  Duke  of  Montmar." 

"He  would  have  left  you?  Ach,  himmel!  — 
Is  it  possible  you  would  have  left  my  lieber 
Kurtzie  to  die,  Herr  Count?  " 

"  Where  is  that  verdammt  spy-woman?  "  Von 


When  Interests  Change  331 

Pappheim  strategically  shifted  from  defense  to 
attack. 

"  My  betrothed  is  now  safe  from  your  false 
charges,"  parried  Kurt. 

11  Your  betrothed?  "  questioned  the  mother,  her 
attention  fixed  by  his  second  reference  to  the 
relationship.  "  But  that  also  is  changed.  You 
must  cast  her  off.  No  more  do  you  need  her 
money,  and  as  she  is  a  spy-woman —  " 

"  No,  Tante!  "  broke  in  Thorpe.  "  That  is 
a  lie.  The  noble  count  is  seeking  to  persecute 
her  because  she  has  twice  given  him  the  basket." 

"  Be  silent,  you!  "  commanded  Von  Papp- 
heim, and  he  again  grasped  his  sword  hilt. 

"  This  is  my  house,  Count  von  Pappheim," 
warned  Kurt.  "  Do  not  threaten,  else  I  call 
the  servant  to  show  you  to  the  door.  You  are 
the  one  who-  should  be  silent  —  with  shame. 
Out  of  spite  you  made  false  charges  against 
my  betrothed.  Out  of  greed  you  flatter  my 
mother  into  forcing  Elsa  to  a  betrothal  with 
you  when  you  learn  she  has  a  large  dot.  Even 
without  that  dot,  you  would  seek  to  hold  my 
sister  fast,  out  of  spite  to  her  beloved,  the  man 
who  saved  your  life.  You  have  sought  to  get 
rid  of  him  and  me.  Now  we  shall  rid  ourselves 
of  you.  You  will  consent  to  the  breaking  of 
the  betrothal,  or  I  will  report  to  our  high  gen- 
eral how  you,  the  officer  in  command,  fled  from 
the  Castle  of  Montmar  to  save  your  life,  and 
left  your  forces  to  perish.  Would  you  enjoy 
having  your  Cross  and  Red  Eagle  and  major's 
insignia  torn  from  your  uniform  before  our 
regiment?  " 


332  The  Blond  Beast 

"  Be  not  hasty,  my  good  young  friend," 
jeered  Von  Pappheim.  "  Let  us  see  who  holds 
the  stronger  hand.  Other  crosses  may  be  more 
loosely  fastened  than  mine.  Prefer  charges 
for  a  court-martial  if  you  wish.  I  have  been 
cited  for  brilliant  service  in  holding  up  the 
French  pursuit  with  my  rearguard  defense  of 
the  chateau  and  for  my  daring  and  craft  in 
breaking  through  to  seek  rescue  for  my 
command." 

"  We  admit  the  craft,"  interjected  Thorpe. 

Von  Pappheim  did  not  turn  his  menacing 
stare  from  Kurt. 

"  As  for  you,  my  good  young  friend,  no 
disgrace  shall  happen  if  you  curb  your  rash 
tongue.  Because  of  my  betrothal  to  your  sister, 
I  have  made  no  charges  against  you  for  the 
two  times  that  you  refused  to  obey  my  orders. 
I  will  have  silence  from  you,  and  you  will  give 
me  your  sister  for  wife,  or  you  will  pay  the 
penalty  for  mutiny." 

Frau  von  Kissel  screamed  and  frantically 
tore  away  the  looted  furs  from  about  her 
thick  neck  as  she  cried  for  Kurt  to  agree 
and  for  Von  Pappheim  to  spare  her  beloved 
son.  Several  moments  passed  before  Thorpe 
and  Kurt  managed  to  quiet  her  hysteria  and 
get  her,  panting  and  clucking,  into  a  chair. 
Thorpe  drew  back  and  gazed  at  her  with  con- 
temptuous pity. 

"  You've  no  need  to  worry,  Tante,"  he  said. 
"  Kurt  was  my  friend  long  before  I  ever  saw 
his  sister.  I  shall  give  her  up  rather  than 
allow  him  to  risk  disgrace  and  death.  He  would 


When  Interests  Change  333 

do  it  for  me.  He  is  loyal.  She  is  not,  else  slie 
would  have  refused  to  yield.  She  is  not  worthy 
of  Kurt's  sacrifice.  Yet  I  do  not  blame  her. 
All  will  power  has  been  drilled  out  of  her.  The 
disgrace  and  shame  is  yours  and  the  high-born 
count *s." 

"  What  —  what  foolish  talk!  "  complained  the 
indignant  frau. 

Thorpe  gripped  Kurt's  hand,  turned  abruptly, 
and  went  out  past  the  cynically  smiling  Von 
Pappheim  as  if  the  herr  count  had  been  a  piece 
of  Prussian  statuary. 


BROKEN   TIES 

As  Thorpe  passed  out  into  the  portico  Kurt's 
hand  clasped  over  his  shoulder.  He  faced  about 
and  saw  the  kindly  blue  eyes  of  his  friend  dark 
with  sympathetic  misery. 

"  Buck  up,  old  man.  You're  not  to  blame," 
he  consoled.  "  Any  message  for  Loo?  " 

"  Give  her  my  heart's  —  But  you're  not  going 
to  rush  back  to  America,  Allan  —  not  yet.  I'd 
be  greatly  to  blame  if  I  let  you  go  while  there 
is  yet  the  slightest  chance.  I  can't  bear  to  think 
of  your  suffering  —  and  Elsa's!  You'll  at  least 
wait  until  I  have  made  sure  whether  Von  Papp- 
heim  can  make  good  his  threat.  Think  of  Elsa 
—  of  how  she  will  grieve!  " 

Thorpe  flinched.  "Don't... It  would  be  far 
worse  for  her  if  Pappheim  had  you  shot." 

"  No  danger  to  me  in  your  waiting  a  few 
days.  You're  no  quitter,  Allan.  Until  she  is 
actually  married  you  can't  give  up  trying." 

"  What  chance,  with  a  girl  of  her  rearing?  " 
questioned  Thorpe.  "  But  I'll  wait  and  see... 
You'll  find  me  at  my  old  lodgings." 

Kurt  picked  up  the  box  of  treasure,  which 
lay  in  front  of  the  other  baggage. 

"  Better  take  this  to  your  ambassador.     I'll 

334 


Broken  Ties  335 

try  to  ship  Lucy's  trunks  to  her.  But  this  is 
too  valuable.  It  would  be  seized  at  the  fron- 
tier. The  embassy  may  consent  to  take  charge 
of  it  as  the  property  of  an  American.  At  the 
same  time  it  will  be  well  for  you  to  have  your 
passport  checked  up.  Von  Pappheim  may  try 
to  be  disagreeable." 

Thorpe  took  the  strong-box  and  set  off  for  the 
nearest  bus  line.  Many  additions  had  been  made 
to  the  embassy  staff  and  several  of  the  former 
attaches  were  gone.  But  Thorpe  had  the  good 
fortune  to  chance  upon  the  one  he  knew  best. 
A  brief  statement  of  his  war  experiences  was 
taken  for  the  secret  archives  of  the  embassy, 
and  all  the  jewels  and  other  valuables,  except 
the  gold,  were  transferred  to  an  official  dispatch- 
box.  At  the  attache's  suggestion,  Thorpe  kept 
the  coins  and  gave  a  check  for  the  amount, 
payable  to  the  Duchess  of  Montmar  at  his  New 
York  bank. 

As  he  set  off  with  the  empty  strong-box,  the 
gold  and  a  new  passport,  the  attache  gave  him 
a  parting  hint: 

"  Drop  in  on  us,  Thorpe,  when  you  get  ready 
to  hit  out  for  God's  country.  We'll  commission 
you  as  an  official  dispatch-bearer.  Otherwise 
you  may  strike  snags  at  the  frontier." 

The  days  that  followed  were  the  most  bitter 
that  Thorpe  had  ever  known.  He  could  not 
go  to  the  Von  Kissel  villa.  Yet  day  and  night 
he  was  tortured  with  longing  to  see  Elsa  and 
with  grief  over  his  certainty  that  she  was  lost 
to  him.  Berlin  was  in  a  whirl  of  balls  and 
concerts  and  bierabends,  gayer  than  it  had  ever 


336  The  Blond  Beast 

been  before  so  early  in  the  season.  Yet  there 
was  no  diversion  for  Thorpe.  To  him  the  fes- 
tivities seemed  only  a  mockery  of  his  loss,  even 
as  the  swagger  and  garishness  of  the  military 
display  kept  him  constantly  in  mind  of  the  arro- 
gant Prussian  who  had  robbed  him  of  love 
and  happiness. 

Twice  Kurt  telephoned,  but  only  to  say  that 
Elsa  seemed  absolutely  subject  to  Von  Papp- 
heim's  domination,  that  the  mother  remained 
obdurate,  and  that  he  was  not  yet  sure  whether 
the  threatened  accusation  of  mutiny  would  hold 
water.  On  the  morning  before  the  wedding  day 
he  again  telephoned,  this  time  hurriedly  to  make 
an  appointment  for  a  meeting  in  a  certain  iso- 
lated corner  of  a  park. 

Though  the  day  was  very  raw  and  disagree- 
able even  for  Berlin's  autumn  weather,  Thorpe 
flung  on  his  new  raincoat  and  set  out  at  once 
in  the  wind  and  sleet  and  freezing  slush.  He 
arrived  so  soon  at  the  meeting  place  that  he 
had  to  wait  several  minutes.  He  was  chilled 
to  the  bone,  when  a  limousine  came  whirling 
around  the  drive  and  stopped  before  him. 

Kurt,  muffled  to  the  ears  in  a  chauffeur's  coat, 
leaned  out  of  the  front  and  motioned  towards 
the  tonneau.  Thorpe  hurried  around  to  the  lee 
side.  The  windows  there  were  hardly  less 
blurred  by  the  sleet  than  those  to  windward. 
As  he  stepped  up  into  the  car  he  laid  aside 
his  hat  and  flung  open  his  dripping  raincoat. 

A  be-furred  figure  was  shrinking  over  to  the 
far  corner.  The  uptilting  of  the  big  hat  exposed 
a  maze  of  softly  glinting  gold.  In  a  twinkling 


Broken  Ties  337 

Thorpe  had  his  arms  about  the  frightened  girl. 
She  struggled  half-heartedly,  and  then  lay  with 
her  head  upon  his  breast,  quivering  like  a  ter- 
rified bird. 

"  Darling!  "  he  cried.  "  You  have  come  to 
me  —  You  love  me  above  all  else!  Say  it!  " 

"I  —  I  love  —  Adi,  lieber  Gott,  could  I  but 
stay  so  forever  in  your  strong  arms!  " 

"  Forever,  darling!  You  have  said  it!  Kurt 
shall  at  once  take  us  to  be  wedded.  We  will 
go  to  the  American  legation.  The  ambassador 
will  make  me  an  under-secretary.  As  my  wife, 
you  will  be  an  American  citizen,  and  no  German 
will  have  authority  over  you." 

"But  — Kurt!"  panted  Elsa.  "He  cannot 
escape . . .  The  herr  count  told  me  —  when  he 
made  me  agree  to  the  be-betrothal  —  he  told  me 
he  would  have  Kurt  shot  —  shot  for  mutiny,  if 
I  refused  him!  " 

' '  The  beast !  —  Beloved,  forgive  me !  I  thought 
it  only  your  lack  of  will.  No  wonder,  though, 
you  agreed,  when  he  was  brutal  enough  to 
bludgeon  you  with  that  threat!  >: 

Elsa  began  to  weep. 

"  Ach!  acJi!  If  only  Kurt  were  safe,  I  could 
go  with  you,  my  Allan,  and  be  happy!  I  could 
even  disobey  the  mother ! . . .  Kurt  makes  light 
of  his  danger.  He  says  the  herr  count  cannot 
harm  him.  But  I  know  —  I  know!  When  I 
told  the  herr  count  what  Kurt  said,  he  smiled 
—  ach-l  that  smile!  —  and  ho  answered,  if  the 
court-martial  did  not  condemn  Kurt,  then  there 
should  be  a  duel... He  has  killed  three  officers 
already.  He  is  a  terrible  duelist!  " 


338  The  Blond  Beast 

"Duel?"  muttered   Thorpe  — "  Duel?  " 

The  girl  read  his  thought  in  the  icy  harden- 
ing of  his  eyes.  Her  arms  flung  up  about  his 
neck  in  frantic  entreaty. 

"  Do  not  —  not  challenge  him!  "  she  gasped. 
"  He  will  not  fight  you.  He  will  call  you  a 
spy. .  .That  also  he  has  told  me.  Many  persons 
have  been  shot  as  spies  —  even  Americans ! . . . 
Lieber  Gott!  There  is  no  way  to  turn  —  no 
way!  If  you  are  killed,  or  if  Kurt  is  killed, 
I  shall  die!" 

Thorpe  clenched  his  jaw  to  hold  back  a  groan. 
What  the  cruelly  tortured  girl  had  said  was 
true.  There  was  no  way  out.  Von  Pappheim 
had  them  fast.  He  had  won,  not  by  braveness 
or  skill,  but  by  craft  and  brutal  disregard  for 
all  moral  considerations.  Thorpe,  like  Kurt, 
might  have  made  light  of  the  danger  to  himself; 
and  Elsa  had  said  she  would  even  disobey  her 
mother.  But  the  way  to  their  elopement  was 
barred.  Von  Pappheim  had  Kurt  in  such  posi- 
tion that  for  them  to  escape,  they  must  tread 
on  the  trigger  of  the  set-gun  that  was  pointed 
at  Kurt's  heart. 

A  broken  whisper  forced  out  between  Thorpe's 
stiffened  lips:  "  Why,  then  —  did  you  come?  " 

The  ready  tears  gushed  into  Elsa's  grief- 
darkened  eyes  and  rolled  down  her  satiny  cheeks. 

"To  —  to  —  say  —  farewell!  "  she  sobbed. 
"  Kurt  said  it  would  not  be  wicked  to-day.  But 
to-morrow  —  then  I  can  no  longer  love  you. 
The  mother  has  said  it." 

Thorpe  drew  her  up  still  closer  in  a  despair- 
ing embrace. .  .Her  clinging  arms  and  innocent, 


Broken  Ties  339 

agonized  child  eyes  were  more  than  he  could 
endure.  He  thrust  himself  away  from  her  and 
plunged  out  of  the  limousine,  to  rush  off  through 
the  icy  sleet,  too  distracted  to  know  what 
he  was  doing.  The  sleet  beat  down  pitilessly 
upon  his  bare  head  and  in  through  the  open 
front  of  his  raincoat.  He  was  drenched  when 
at  last  he  staggered  into  his  lodging  house. 

The  next  morning  his  landlady  discovered  him 
tossing  in  the  delirium  of  fever.  When  he  came 
to  consciousness,  he  found  himself  in  a  hospital. 
Frau  von  Kissel,  in  her  magnificent  Belgian 
furs,  was  stroking  his  whitened  hand.  She 
beamed  kindly  when  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were 
open  and  conscious. 

"  Good,  lieber  Allant,"  she  said  in  a  tone 
of  patronizing  graciousness.  "  The  nurse  says 
you  are  safe  past  the  crisis.  You  have  had 
pneumonia.  So  foolish  of  you  to  run  about 
in  the  wet!  But  now  you  will  soon  be  well, 
and  you  can  come  back  as  our  good  friend. 
The  wedding  was  most  lovely  and  grand.  It 
was  military  —  and  Kurt  also  was  much  noticed. 
But,  of  course,  the  center  of  all  eyes  was  my 
high-born  son-in-law,  the  lieber  Wolf!  " 

A  faint  whisper  breathed  from  between 
Thorpe's  fever-parched  lips:  "  So  you've 
thrown  your  own  lamb  to  the  wolf!  " 

He  shut  his  eyes  and  turned  away  his  head . . . 
Frau  von  Kissel  did  not  again  come  to  the 
hospital. 

In  the  two  weeks  that  passed  before  Thorpe 
could  return  to  his  lodgings  Kurt  came  often 
to  visit.  He  was  still  on  leave. 


340  The  Blond  Beast 

No  word  of  Lucy  had  been  received.  From 
the  west  end  of  the  Aisne  entrenched  line,  the 
Germans  were  working  north  past  Cambrai 
towards  the  Channel,  against  the  French  and 
English,  each  side  striving  to  out-flank  the  other. 
Von  Pappheim  had  been  ordered  to  staff  duty 
at  Brussels,  and  had  taken  Elsa  with  him  — 
to  the  great  distress  and  anxiety  of  the  mother. 
The  Belgian  army  had  been  driven  back  into 
Antwerp,  which  was  besieged  and  under  bom- 
bardment. 

Thorpe  felt  mildly  grateful  to  his  friend  and 
rather  enjoyed  his  visits.  Otherwise  he  looked 
upon  everything  and  everybody,  upon  the  war, 
upon  life  itself,  with  an  indifference  that  verged 
on  morbid  apathy.  Even  his  grief  over  Elsa 
seemed  to  have  been  deadened.  After  he  left 
the  hospital,  a  full  week  passed  before  he  began 
to  think  of  returning  to  America, 

The  day  of  the  fall  of  Antwerp  Kurt  rushed 
in  on  his  friend  to  tell  the  news,  and  to  supple- 
ment it  with  an  item  of  personal  interest  to 
them  both.  He  himself  had  received  the  Bed 
Eagle,  and  —  this  was  the  joyful  surprise  he 
had  for  his  friend  —  the  Iron  Cross  was  to  be 
given  to  Thorpe. 

"  Think  of  it!  "  he  exulted.  "  You,  a  civilian 
—  an  American  —  and  only  in  the  Bed  Cross 
service;  yet  to  win  so  high  an  honor  —  Won- 
derful! glorious!  Not  but  what  you  deserve 
it,  and  more,  too  —  yet  a  civilian  and  a  neutral ! 
Think  of  it!  " 

Thorpe  thought.  He  thought  at  first  coldly; 
then  with  a  growing  heat  whose  burning  at  last 


Broken  Ties  341 

stung  and  quickened  his  benumbed  sensibili- 
ties to  acute  life. 

"I  don't  want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  Kurt; 
but  stop  and  think  yourself,"  he  said.  "  Is  the 
Iron  Cross  in  good  taste  for  a  Bed  Cross 
worker?  Would  you  bestow  the  Bed  Cross  on 
Von  Pappheim?  " 

Kurt  flushed  and  stood  silent. 

"  You  see  the  point,"  went  on  Thorpe.  "I've 
tried  all  along  to  say  nothing.  You're  my  friend, 
and  you're  as  civilized  as  an  American.  You 
could  not  fight  other  than  fair.  But  you  can 
guess  how  I  feel  towards  the  cold-blooded  merci- 
less devil's  disciples  of  frightfulness  that  have 
crucified  and  are  crucifying  Belgium  and  north- 
ern France.  I  mean  the  men  higher  up,  the 
ones  who  are  peddling  out  these  crosses.  If 
the  All-Highest  himself  offered  me  his  own 
insignia  of  the  Order  of  the  Golden  Fleece  on 
a  silver  platter,  I  wouldn't  touch  it  with  tongs. 
The  chances  are  there  would  be  a  wolf  inside 
the  fleece.  That's  what  I  think—-" 

"  Allan!  Allan!  If  you  knew  how  you  make 
me  suffer!  " 

"  No,  don't  blame  it  on  me.  It's  the  damna- 
ble truth  that  hurts  you." 

"  The  Czar's  Government  is  far  worse!  " 

"  I  doubt  it.  That  could  not  be  humanly  — 
or  inhumanly  —  possible.  Anyway,  two  wrongs 
don't  make  a  right.  Your  mail-fisted,  iron- 
heeled,  divine-right  lords  are  busy  with  their 
shiny  swords  making  a  hell  on  earth.  Before 
this  war  ends  I  have  an  idea  that  your  whole 
people  will  themselves  be  in  that  hell.  You 


342  The  Blond  Beast 

should  be  able  to  see  it  yourself  —  as  a  possi- 
bility, at  least.  You  saw  the  invincible  war- 
machine  withdrawn  strategically  from  the  Marne. 
A  new  hell  —  made  in  Germany!  At  home  the 
preaching  of  hatred  as  a  noble  passion ;  through- 
out the  invaded  regions  the  systematic,  scien- 
tific, methodical  enactment  of  frightfulness — 
pillaging,  burning,  shooting  of  prisoners,  rap- 
ing of  women,  killing  and  torturing  of  children 
...And  all  this  by  the  nation  that  has  vaunted 
to  the  world  about  its  kultur,  its  leadership  in 
civilization,  its  superiority  over  all  mankind  as 
the  highest  and  noblest  of  all  the  races!  I 
tell  you,  when  the  world  realizes  —  ' ' 

Kurt  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  The 
gesture  was  more  effective  than  any  spoken 
entreaty.  Thorpe  caught  himself  up. 

"  All  right,  old  man.  I'm  not  going  to  rub 
it  in.  But  you  see  how  impossible  it  would  be 
for  me  to  accept  one  of  those  iron  symbols  of 
crucified  Belgium.  Just  quietly  let  the  higher- 
ups  know  I  must  decline  the  honor  because 
American  citizens  are  not  permitted  to  accept 
decorations  without  a  special  act  of  Congress. 
That  is  true  of  our  officials  and  officers,  and  it 
will  serve." 

The  young  Prussian,  who  had  rushed  to  his 
friend  in  a  glow  of  joyous  exultation,  went 
away  drooping  and  dejected. 

Eoused  from  his  apathy,  Thorpe  settled  his 
few  accounts  and  made  ready  for  the  coming 
journey.  The  following  day  he  went  to  the 
American  embassy.  The  offer  of  his  services 
as  courier  to  England  was  accepted.*  He  was 


Broken  Ties  343 

formally  appointed  an  attache  and  sent  to  the 
Imperial  Foreign  Office  in  Wilhelmstrasse  to 
have  his  regular  passport  and  a  special  one 
as  attache  courier  viseed  by  the  Geheimer 
Legationsrat. 

The  move  was  made  none  too  soon.  When 
he  returned  to  his  lodgings  he  surprised  a  pair 
of  military  secret  service  men  methodically  fer- 
reting through  all  his  books,  writings,  letters 
and  outfit.  No  apologies  were  made  even  when 
he  showed  his  attache  passport.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  was  held  prisoner  while  the  search 
continued.  Only  after  urgent  demand  could  he 
obtain  permission  to  telephone  to  the  embassy. 

An  attache  replied  in  what  the  listening  secret 
service  men  very  naturally  mistook  for  code: 
"Keep  on  your  shirt,  old  man.  We're  going 
to  bat." 

Certain  wires  must  have  sizzled.  As  the  fer- 
rets gathered  up  the  papers  that  they  suspected 
might  be  suspicious,  and  ordered  Thorpe  to 
come  with  them  to  the  police  station,  the  tele- 
phone buzzed  with  an  urgent  call  from  Wilhelm- 
strasse. Promptly  followed  ungracious  guttural 
apologies  for  the  "  so-regretful  mistake,"  and 
Thorpe  found  himself  alone  with  all  his  posses- 
siors.  He  gathered  up  the  hastily  dropped 
papers,  repacked  his  baggage,  and  went  to  the 
legation. 

When  he  was  motored  to  the  train  in  an 
embassy  car,  he  held  in  his  own  hands  a  pouch 
of  diplomatic  correspondence  and  the  dispatch- 
box  containing  the  jewels  and  other  valuables 
of  Lucy's  friend,  the  duchess. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
ON   THE   BELIEF 

The  trip  from  Berlin  across  the  flat  country 
to  the  Holland  border  was  as  uneventful  as 
it  was  uninteresting,  except  that  midway  the 
train  was  delayed  for  hours  by  a  movement 
of  troop  and  munition  trains.  This  brought 
Thorpe  to  Bentheim,  on  the  frontier,  at  dusk. 

In  the  custom  house,  demand  was  made  that 
he  turn  over  for  inspection  the  official  sealed 
pieces  with  his  other  baggage.  He  showed  his 
courier's  passport,  and  clung  fast  to  the  pouch 
and  satchel  and  dispatch-box.  As  a  result  he 
was  held  all  night  under  guard.  The  Germans 
may  have  hoped  he  would  fall  asleep  and  give 
them  a  chance  to  pry  into  the  sealed  packages. 
Seals  can  be  detached  and  replaced  by  experts. 

But  Thorpe  was  too  well  posted  on  German 
methods  to  be  caught  napping.  He  kept  alertly 
awake,  and  wrote  a  telegram  to  the  American 
ambassador  every  hour.  Even  Prussian  con- 
tempt for  international  law  had  not  yet  reached 
the  audacity  of  committing  violence  on  the  dip- 
lomatic representative  of  a  powerful  neutral. 
Whether  his  telegrams  were  sent  or  delivered 
Thorpe  never  knew.  But  in  the  morning  his 
minutely  inspected  personal  baggage  was  re- 

344 


On  the  Relief  345 

turned,  and  permission  was  given  for  him  to 
cross  over  the  heavily  guarded  frontier. 

The  passage  to  Holland  was  like  emerging 
into  the  open  air  and  sunshine  from  a  prison 
surcharged  with  irritating,  exciting  poison  fumes. 
Even  the  stout  Netherlander  soldiers  showed 
the  difference.  Despite  their  martial  uniforms 
and  rifles,  the  round  rosy  cheeks  under  their 
pompomed  caps  showed  the  placidity  of  peace 
and  good-nature.  Here  was  no  fever  of  war, 
no  hate,  no  terror.  The  only  signs  of  the  hell- 
storm  that  was  raging  over  Belgium  were  the 
groups  of  wretched  refugees  that  Thorpe  met 
in  crossing  the  land  of  dykes  to  his  port.  Many 
as  there  were  of  these  Belgian  unfortunates,  his 
war-glutted  eyes  passed  them  by  almost  unno- 
ticed in  the  restful  phlegmatic  calm  of  Holland 
life. 

A  few  hours  of  relaxation  in  the  grateful 
atmosphere  of  peace,  and  he  came  back  with 
a  jolt  to  the  grim  realities  of  the  war  nightmare. 
His  steamer  was  jammed  with  refugees,  all  hag- 
gard from  privation  and  red-eyed  with  much 
weeping.  Most  were  still  dazed  and  dumb. 
Some  bore  wounds  —  among  them  a  little  girl 
who  had  been  bayoneted  through  the  arm,  and 
a  still  littler  boy  whose  right  hand  had  been  cut 
off  at  the  wrist.  But  harder  for  many  to 
bear  than  the  physical  pain  and  hardships  was 
the  anguish  of  separation  from  loved  ones. 
There  were  wives  who  had  lost  their  husbands, 
mothers  their  children,  children  their  parents, 
in  the  panic-stricken  flight  of  a  people  before 
the  ravaging  gray  wolves  of  frightfulness. 


346  The  Blond  Beast 

Nor  were  the  wretched  exiles  yet  safe  from 
their  barbarous  persecutors.  German  mines, 
set  afloat  or  planted  in  the  sea  ways,  had  already 
sunk  over  twenty  ships.  Hardly  three  weeks 
past,  a  single  German  submarine  had  torpedoed 
three  British  light  cruisers  within  an  hour  or 
less.  The  new  sea  terrors  were  known  to  be 
lurking  near  the  Channel.  According  to  gen- 
eral belief,  only  ships  of  war  needed  to  fear 
their  torpedoes.  But  Thorpe  felt  by  no  means 
sure  of  this.  He  had  seen  German  warfare 
on  land. 

The  misery  of  the  refugees  was  increased 
by  the  roughness  of  the  passage  across  the  cor- 
ner of  the  North  Sea,  a  passage  prolonged 
by  the  need  of  the  ship  to  follow  a  zigzag 
course  through  the  known  mine  fields.  The 
few  Belgians  who  were  not  seasick  found  diffi- 
culty in  getting  food.  The  saloon  floor  was 
a-whirl  with  fragments  of  dishes  that  had  jumped 
the  table  racks  in  the  wild  plunging  and  rolling 
of  the  ship.  To  escape  the  sight  of  his  suffering 
fellow-passengers,  Thorpe  borrowed  a  suit  of 
oilskins  and  spent  hours  on  the  storm-flooded 
decks.  The  howl  of  the  gale,  the  lowering 
clouds,  the  foam-blotched  black-green  wave  moun- 
tains that  tossed  the  steamer  skyward,  only 
to  drop  it  with  a  dizzy  slump  into  their  yawn- 
ing liquid  valleys  —  all  were  in  keeping  with 
his  mood  of  gloomy  uneasiness.  Even  after 
the  wave-battered  steamer  fought  its  way  safe 
into  port,  his  restlessness  and  depression  did 
not  lessen  until  he  witnessed  the  warm-hearted 
welcome  given  by  the  English  to  the  refugee 


On  the  Relief  347 

Belgians  the  moment  the  ship  reached  the  wharf. 

He  was  agreeably  astonished  at  this  new  aspect 
of  English  life.  On  his  way  to  Germany  from 
America  he  had  passed  through  the  Mother 
Country  of  Anglo-Saxon  civilization.  But  his 
prejudiced  eyes  had  seen  only  the  fog  and  reek 
of  the  political  squabblings,  the  hysteria  of  the 
suffragettes,  and  the  squalor  of  the  slums.  All 
the  year  in  Germany  he  had  had  dinned  into 
his  ears  constant  assertions  that  the  British 
were  envious,  low-minded  money-grubbers,  fairly 
successful  on  the  sea,  but  incapable  of  devoting 
themselves  to  the  heroism  of  land  warfare. 

His  return  now  found  the  Tight  Little  Island 
in  the  throes  of  a  tremendous  military  prepara- 
tion. A  self-contained  nation  that  with  only 
half  attention  had  read  about  the  heroic  sacri- 
fice of  its  little  professional  army,  now  had 
been  inflamed  to  war-fury  by  the  dropping  of 
Zeppelin  bombs  among  its  women  and  children. 
Everywhere  volunteers  were  drilling,  some  with 
sticks,  all  without  rifles.  Territorials  hardly  less 
raw  were  embarking  for  the  front,  to  the  blare 
and  shout  of  "  Tipperary."  Crowds  surged 
about  posters  that  told  the  young  men  their 
king  and  country  had  need  of  them. 

Thorpe  went  direct  to  the  American  embassy, 
to  deliver  the  dispatch-pouch  and  leave  the  dis- 
patch-box and  his  gold  for  safe  keeping.  An 
attache  casually  inquired^  whether  he  had  any 
idea  of  joining  the  Belgian  Relief. 

"  What's  that?  "  asked  Thorpe. 

"Haven't  you  heard?  —  The  Germans  have 
requisitioned  the  Belgian  crops  and  other  food 


348  The  Blond  Beast 

supplies.  An  American  engineer  over  here  — 
man  named  Hoover  —  heads  a  commission  that 
is  trying  to  feed  the  starving  population.  He 
has  a  bunch  of  our  college  graduates  running 
that  end." 

Thorpe  shook  his  head. 

"I'd  like  to  help,  but  I'm  too  fed  up  with 
this  war  stuff,  as  the  English  say.  I'm  going 
back  to  God's  country.  A  man  can  stand  only 
so  much.  I  was  in  the  lines  —  Red  Cross  — 
from  Dinant  down  across  the  Marne  and  back 
to  the  Aisne." 

"  Indeed?  Must  have  been  a  great  show. 
Something  to  remember." 

"  To  forget  —  to  get  thousands  of  miles  away 
from!  "  burst  out  Thorpe.  "  If  I  should  tell 
you  what  I've  seen,  you  wouldn't  believe  it  — 
you  couldn't.  Do  you  —  do  our  people  at  home 
—  believe  what  has  happened  to  the  civilian 
population  of  Belgium  and  North  France  —  what 
is  happening  to-day?  No,  not  one  person  in 
a  thousand.  It's  unbelievable  —  unthinkable! 
Even  when  youVe  seen  with  your  own  eyes, 
it's  so  horrible  it  seems  unreal... But  it  sticks 
in  a  man's  memory. .  .And  the  hellish  work  of 
the  shells  —  men  and  beasts  torn,  mashed,  blown 
to  pieces . . .  God !  I  want  to  get  away  —  I  want 
to  forget!  " 

"  Well,  no  one  can  blame  you,  if  that's  the 
way  you  feel.  Maybe  you  saw  what  the  Presi- 
dent replied  to  the  Kaiser,  last  month,  about 
a  day  of  accounting  for  all  wrongs  committed. 
But  we  can  thank  our  lucky  stars  we're  out  of 
the  game.  The  U.  S.  is  booming  along,  mopping 


On  the  Relief  349 

up  the  world's  trade.  If  the  war  keeps  on  a 
few  months  longer,  we'll  have  an  enormous 
trade  balance.  I  have  a  tip  to  go  in  heavily 
for  powder  company  and  steel  stocks.  The  allies 
are  in  the  American  market  with  billions  to 
spend. ' ' 

Thorpe  frowned. 

"  You  should  hear  the  Prussians  howl  over 
our  selling  munitions  to  their  enemies.  They 
won't  believe  it  is  our  right  under  international 
law.  Yet  they  sold  munitions  to  the  Spaniards 
to  fight  us.  What  I  wonder  is  that  we  don't 
pitch  in  and  help  free  Belgium.  However,  if 
food  is  being  taken  in  by  a  competent  com- 
mission—  " 

11  Competent?  —  You  should  have  seen  the  way 
Mr.  Hoover  cleared  up  the  jam  of  tourists  that 
stampeded  from  all  over  Europe  and  stranded 
here,  those  first  rush  weeks.*' 

"  That  reminds  me,"  said  Thorpe.  "I'd  like 
to  inquire  about  Miss  Carew,  an  old  friend. 
She  probably  came  through  from  Brussels  three 
weeks  or  a  month  ago." 

"Carew?  " 

'  *  Lucy  Carew.  You  must  remember  her  — 
young,  green  eyes,  copper-gold  hair,  lots  of 
personality. ' ' 

"  No. .  .Wait.  I  had  a  letter  from  the  secre- 
tary of  our  Minister  to  Belgium  only  a  day 
or  two  ago.  He  mentioned  a  Miss  Carew  as 
helping  the  Belgian  Relief  —  said  she  was  a 
corker. ' ' 

Thorpe  jumped  up.  "  What's  the  address 
of  this  Mr.  Hoover?  " 


350  The  Blond  Beast 

Morning  found  him  aboard  one  of  the  Belgium 
Belief  ships,  with  instructions  to  report  for 
service  at  Brussels.  Back  across  the  Channel, 
zigzagging  to  avoid  mine  fields;  then  up  the 
Scheldt,  through  tranquil,  peace-blessed  Holland, 
to  German-shelled,  German-clutched  Antwerp. 

His  passport  and  credentials  and  fluent  Ger- 
man speech  won  the  new  Relief  worker  easy 
passage  of  the  military  cordon.  He  went  direct 
to  the  Commission's  offices  in  Antwerp. 

A  battered  little  coupe  was  standing  at  the 
curb  before  the  door.  On  the  front  of  the 
muddied  hood  fluttered  an  American  flag.  Almost 
reverently  Thorpe  turned  to  lift  his  hat  to  the 
emblem  of  his  country. .  .The  door  of  the  coupe 
flew  open.  A  young  lady,  dressed  in  hard-worn 
khaki  and  leather,  sprang  out  to  grasp  his  hand 
and  pump  it  up  and  down. 

* '  Why,  Lan !  You  old  surprise  party !  What 
are  you  doing  here?  " 

"  Grinning,"  said  Thorpe.  "  Ought  to  be 
cussing.  I  see  you  still  haven't  got  sense  enough 
to  go  in  when  it  rains,  and  all  Belgium  in  the 
Hun  deluge!  " 

She  flashed  a  smiling  glance  at  the  bleak  driz- 
zling clouds. 

"  Oh,  I've  turned  into  a  Flanders  goose." 

"  Well,  you've  given  me  a  wild-goose  chase. 
I  thought  you  were  safe  across  the  duck-pond 
weeks  ago.  Thought  you'd  be  as  glad  as  I 
was  to  head  for  home." 

The  girl's  sparkling  eyes  clouded  and  darkened. 

"  But  this  proves  it  was  the  same  with  you 
as  with  me,"  she  said.  "  We  know  what  has 


On  the  Relief  351 

happened  —  is  happening.  We  couldn't  help 
staying  to  do  our  bit." 

"  I  could  have,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you," 
rejoined  Thorpe.  "  It  was  like  pulling  teeth, 
but  I  had  to  stop  my  home  run  and  join  the 
Belief  to  get  over  here  and  look  after  you. 
Kurt  told  me  that  Von  Pappheim  had  been 
ordered  to  Brussels." 

The  rich  rose  in  Lucy's  cheeks  deepened  and 
as  quickly  faded. 

"  You  shouldn't  have  come,  Lan.  Herr  Count 
is  very  civil  —  rather  too  much  so,  if  anything. 
And  with  Kurt  coming. .  .Elsa  wired  him  about 
me;  so  he  waived  sick  leave  and  asked  for  a 
detail  to  Brussels.  She  received  his  telegram 
last  night. —  But  you,  Lan!  For  you  to  see 
the  way  he  treats  her... Better  take  charge  of 
a  district  over  towards  Liege." 

Thorpe  set  his  jaw. 

"I'm  ordered  to  Brussels.  Besides,  it's  not 
a  question  of  myself  now.  I've  seen  Pappheim 
in  action.  It's  up  to  me  to  stand  by  till  you're 
married  to  Kurt  —  or  aboard  ship. ' ' 

The  color  flooded  back  into  Lucy's  cheeks. 

"  Run  in  and  tell  Mr.  Burlew  he  will  have 
to  walk  to  Brussels,  as  I've  found  a  handsomer 
man. —  Oh,  don't  be  afraid  of  hurting  his  feel- 
ings. He'll  know  you're  not,  as  soon  as  he 
sees  you.  And  he  was  going  merely  because 
he's  afraid  I'm  not  to  be  trusted  oui;  alone." 

"  A  wooden  Indian  would  know  that,"  said 
Thorpe. 

Burlew  closely  resembled  the  Apollo  Belve- 
dere, and  was  not  glad  to  lose  the  ride  with 


352  The  Blond  Beast 

Miss  Carew.  He  shook  hands  with  the  new 
helper  all  the  way  out  to  the  coupe. 

"  No,"  said  Lucy,  as  Thorpe  offered  to  drive. 
11  Ed  will  tell  you  I'm  the  only  one  versed  in 
the  multifarious  idiosyncrasies  of  this  dolorous 
vehicle.  You  can  be  the  shover  whenever  it 
skids  into  a  shell  hole. —  Au  revoir,  Ed.  Isn't 
it  nice  I've  found  a  substitute  to  save  you 
the  trip?  " 

The  creaking,  clattering  coupe  started  off 
along  the  street.  Thorpe  glanced  back  at  the 
Greek  god. 

11  How  about  it,  Loo?  My  guess  is  that  Ed 
could  have  found  fortitude  to  set  his  teeth 
and  endure  your  company  for  an  hour  or  two 
without  perishing. ' ' 

"  Not  if  I  could  help  it.  He  has  proposed 
five  times  already,  once  for  every  trip,  though 
I  showed  him  Kurt's  ring.  It's  getting 
monotonous. —  Want  to  go  around  by  way  of 
Louvain?  " 

Thorpe  shuddered.  * '  I  saw  Dinant ...  Do  you 
remember  that  old-fashioned  Thanksgiving  we 
spent  at  your  aunt's  in  the  country?  " 

"  When  you  rescued  me  from  the  mooley 
cow!  " 

The  coupe  clattered  and  bumped  and  skidded 
along  the  broken  muddy  road,  past  cleared  bar- 
ricades and  futile  trenches.  The  drizzle  of  the 
leaden  sky  chilled  into  sleet.  But  the  pair 
within  the  decrepit  rattletrap  had  soared  away 
on  the  wings  of  fancy,  back  through  time  and 
space  to  the  sunny  golden  days  of  peace  and 
childhood. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 
THE    EAGLE'S    BEAK 

At  Brussels  Lucy  had  rooms  in  a  pension 
with  the  family  of  an  elderly  attache.  Thorpe 
stopped  for  the  night  at  the  Relief  Commission's 
quarters.  From  there  he  was  sent  out  to  look 
over  the  situation  around  Ghent  and  towards 
Bruges,  where  the  German  army  that  had  taken 
Antwerp  was  driving  at  Ostend.  To  cover  the 
ground  he  successfully  tinkered  the  engine  and 
tires  of  a  disreputable  old  racing  car,  which 
the  Germans  had  considered  too  worthless  to 
be  requisitioned. 

When  he  returned  to  Brussels  he  found  Kurt 
calling  on  Lucy.  There  was  a  moment  of  con- 
straint, due  to  Kurt's  flush  and  involuntary 
betrayal  of  resentment.  But  Thorpe  mistook 
this  for  embarrassment.  He  was  quite  uncon- 
scious of  any  other  feeling  towards  Lucy  than 
affectionate  friendship,  and  so  could  not  con- 
ceive that  Kurt  was  jealous.  The  warmth  of 
his  greeting  thawed  the  young  officer's  coolness, 
especially  when  he  noticed  the  changed  insignia 
on  Kurt's  uniform  and  congratulated  him  upon 
his  promotion  to  a  captaincy. 

Lucy  studied  Thorpe  through  her  lashes. 

"  Kurt's   train   just   reached   Brussels,"   she 

353 


354  The  Blond  Beast 

explained.  "  We're  going  to  see  Elsa.  Come 
along.  You  may  as  well  make  the  plunge  now 
as  later." 

"  I  hadn't  expected —  "  he  hesitated.  "  Yet 
if  you  say  so —  " 

He  followed  the  couple  out  into  the  gray 
drizzle. 

The  Von  Pappheim  establishment  was  large. 
The  Belgian  owner  of  the  mansion  had  been 
provided  lodgings  in  prison,  and  all  of  Elsa's 
new  fortune  was  now  controlled  by  her  husband. 
In  the  portico  stood  an  alert  orderly,  who  gave 
the  inevitable  Prussian  military  touch  to  the 
menage. 

"  Ja,  the  Countess  Wolf  von  Pappheim  is  at 
home,  though  indisposed. —  Her  brother  Captain 
von  Kissel?  —  Ja,  ja.  There  is  no  order  against 
the  countess  receiving  her  brother.  Be  pleased 
to  enter." 

They  were  conducted  by  a  hard-featured  Ger- 
man housekeeper  through  a  magnificent  suite 
to  a  small  sewing  room.  Elsa  sat  alone,  meekly 
bowed  over  the  tiny  garment  to  which  she  was 
sewing  a  narrow  edging  of  lace. 

At  the  first  word  of  the  housekeeper's 
announcement  of  the  callers,  the  young  bride 
started  as  if  frightened,  and  hastily  wiped  away 
the  tears  that  were  rolling  down  her  cheeks. 
Her  first  glance  perceived  only  Kurt,  who  had 
sprung  ahead  to  embrace  her. 

Thorpe  held  back  behind  Lucy,  striving  hard 
to  conceal  and  repress  the  upwelling  of  com- 
passion that  threatened  to  master  him.  One 
look  had  shown  him  that  the  dew-fresh  half- 


The  Eagle's  Beak  355 

blown  rosebud  whom  he  had  wooed  in  the  garden 
of  Montmar  was  no  more.  The  wife  of  Wolf 
von  Pappheim  was  a  colorless  lily,  already 
broken  in  spirit  and  beginning  to  wilt. 

At  a  sharp  command  from  Kurt,  the  primly 
on-looking  housekeeper  left  the  room  with  sour 
reluctance.  Kurt  patted  his  weeping  sister  on 
the  back  and  wiped  her  streaming  eyes. 

"  Smile,  little  sister!  Here  are  dear  friends, 
come  with  me  to  call  on  you.'* 

Lucy  drew  Thorpe  forward  and  covered  the 
sudden  shrinking  of  Elsa  with  a  tactfulness  that 
purposely  misconstrued  its  cause. 

"  No  wonder  you  take  Lan  for  a  ghost,  honey. 
I,  too,  thought  he  was  in  America,  when  he 
bobbed  up.  He  came  to  help  the  Belief  —  Didn't 
expect  the  honor  of  meeting  the  Countess  von 
Pappheim." 

The  deft  mention  of  her  title  brought  the 
bride's  head  up  and  gave  Thorpe  his  cue. 

"  May  I  felicitate  you  on  the  magnificence 
of  your  home,  Countess?  It  is  perfectly  in  keep- 
ing with  your  high  rank." 

Elsa  found  strength  to  stand  without  clinging 
to  her  brother. 

"  You  are  most  kind  to  say  it,  Herr  Thorpe. 
—  Please  all  be  seated.  I  shall  ring  for 
refreshments. ' ' 

Thorpe  at  once  began  to  talk  about  his  new 
work  as  though  he  had  no  other  thought  or 
interest.  This  bridged  the  interval  until  the 
.serving  of  a  characteristic  German  afternoon 
luncheon.  Kurt  had  missed  his  noon  meal.  He 
attacked  the  sausages  and  beer.  Elsa,  still 


356  The  Blond  Beast 

tearful-eyed,  promptly  followed  his  lead.  Neither 
noticed  how  Thorpe's  face  fell.  He  declined  the 
food  and  hastily  drained  one  cup  of  coffee  after 
another.  Lucy  nibbled  at  a  caviare  sandwich 
and  lingered  over  her  cup  of  tea,  as  she  thought- 
fully watched  the  brother  and  sister  clear  away 
the  luncheon. 

The  Americans  could  not  refuse  to  drink  when 
Kurt  proposed  a  toast  to  the  Belief  Commis- 
sion. Thorpe  responded  with  a  toast  of  felici- 
tation to  the  new  captain.  The  second  glass 
of  champagne,  following  the  beer,  brought  a 
flush  of  color  into  Elsa's  wan  face  and  an 
unnatural  brightness  into  her  grief -dulled  eyes. 
She  began  to  tell  Thorpe  with  feverish  gaiety 
about  her  presentation  as  a  countess  before 
Majestdt  and  about  the  high  court  functions 
that  she  had  already  attended. 

Thorpe  listened  with  grave  attentiveness,  and 
drank  more  coffee.  Kurt,  overcome  with  ardent 
adoration,  moved  his  chair  around  beside  Lucy's 
and  asserted  his  betrothal  right  to  hold  her 
hand  in  his  fond  clasp.  He  was  begging  her 
for  a  kiss  when  she  shrugged  and  motioned 
towards  the  entrance. 

Von  Pappheim  stood  in  the  doorway,  cynic- 
ally smiling.  Kurt's  involuntary  exclamation 
drew  Elsa's  attention  to  her  husband.  She 
stopped  short  in  the  midst  of  a  shrill  sentence, 
her  mouth  agape  with  fright.  All  the  color  was 
as  if  blotted  out  of  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  dilated. 
As  Von  Pappheim  advanced,  she  cowered  as 
if  expecting  a  blow.  His  cruel  smile  changed 
to  suave  gallantry.  He  bowed  low  to  Lucy. 


The  Eagle's  Beak  357 

"  Most  charming  fraulein,  the  pleasure  is 
great  to  see  you  at  my  table  with  our  lieber 
Kurt  and  the  good  Herr  Thorpe.  You  have 
heard  how  your  so-modest  countryman  declined 
the  Iron  Cross?  —  No?  He  has  a  fine  sense  of 
propriety.  He  realized  how  inappropriate  it 
would  be  for  an  American  to  accept  a  medal 
conferred  for  heroism.  Americans  are  too  proud 
to  fight  —  nicht?" 

11  Maybe,"  murmured  Lucy.  "  But  I'm  won- 
dering what  would  happen  if  someone  should 
try  to  lower  our  pride." 

This  was  rather  too  abstruse  for  the  Teutonic 
mind  to  take  in  without  rumination.  Von  Papp- 
heim  covered  his  perplexity  with  a  bland  smile 
and  redoubled  gallantry. 

"  Ach,  gracious  fraulein,  I  must  tell  of  that 
Iron  Cross  while  I  show  to  you  the  delightful 
orchids  of  my  conservatory.  You  must  come 
and  see  those  orchids." 

Lucy  glanced  thoughtfully  at  Thorpe  and 
Elsa,  and  rose  to  take  Von  Pappheim's  prof- 
fered arm.  Kurt  stared,  flushed  crimson,  and 
jumped  up  to  follow  them  from  the  room. 
Thorpe  and  Elsa  were  left  alone.  The  bride 
did  not  see  her  husband  leave.  She  had  drooped 
over,  whiter  than  ever.  Thorpe  reached  across 
the  luncheon  table  and  filled  her  glass  with 
champagne. 

"  The  beast!  "  he  muttered.  "  There. .  .drink 
that.  You  must  be  able  to  think  —  to  answer 
me." 

Elsa  quivered  at  the  sternness  of  his  tone. 
She  raised  her  upturned  eyes  to  him  in  a  piti- 


358  The  Blond  Beast 

ful,  frightened  look  of  inquiry.  "  What  —  what 
did  you  say?  " 

"  You  heard  him  taunt  me,"  said  Thorpe. 
"  He  thinks  Americans  will  not  fight.  They 
won't  unless  they're  sure  they  have  something 
worth  fighting  for . . .  Dueling  is  out  of  style 
among  civilized  people  —  but  I  have  seen  Count 
Wolf  von  Pappheim  at  war,  and  I  can  imagine 
his  treatment  of  you.  In  plain  American,  it's 
more  than  I  can  stand  for." 

An  agony  of  terror  seized  the  girl-wife.  She 
tottered  to  her  feet  and  stood  panting  and 
gasping,  her  hands  clutched  hard  over  her 
heart 

"  Do  not  — do  not  — fight?  He  will  kill  you! 
. .  .Shame  to  me. .  .my  husband!  Even  to  listen 
...  so  wicked  —  most  wicked !  Go  —  far  away. . . 
I  beg  you  to  go  —  " 

Thorpe  saw  her  sway.  He  was  quick  enough 
to  spring  around  and  catch  her  as  she  fell.  He 
called  loudly  for  help.  Elsa's  face  was  a 
deathly  grayish  white.  There  was  no  response 
to  his  calls.  He  lifted  the  swooning  bride  and 
rushed  towards  the  adjoining  room,  where  he 
remembered  having  seen  a  lounge.  As  he  hur- 
ried through  the  doorway  he  all  but  collided 
with  Von  Pappheim. 

With  a  guttural  curse,  the  Prussian  seized 
the  flaccid  body  of  his  wife  and  tore  her  out 
of  Thorpe's  arms.  In  the  face  of  his  half  insane 
fury,  any  attempt  at  explanations  would  have 
been  futile.  Thorpe  quietly  stepped  past  him 
and  went  out  through  the  suite  of  rooms.  Lucy 
and  Kurt  were  nowhere  in  sight. 


The  Eagle's  Beak  359 

He  left  the  mansion  and  hunted  up  one  of 
his  new  American  acquaintances. 

"  Lee,"  he  said,  "  you're  a  Virginian.  You've 
seen  samples  of  applied  German  kultur.  I'm 
expecting  a  Prussian  officer  to  challenge  me. 
Can  I  count  on  you?  " 

"  Sure.  We'll  make  it  brickbats  at  forty  rods 
—  or  forty-two  centimeter  howitzers  at  five." 

"  I'm  not  joking,  Lee.  It's  that  Von  Papp- 
heim  you  had  a  set-to  with  for  stealing  half  the 
flour  shipped  to  your  district." 

' '  That  tow-headed  buzzard  f  Wheel  Got  your 
coffin  ordered?  How '11  you  take  yours  —  cold 
steel  or  lead?  " 

"  Lead.  I  don't  know  enough  about  fencing 
to  go  through  the  motions." 

"  All  right.  Lead  she  is.  Anything  to  accom- 
modate. It'll  be  a  deuced  nuisance,  though, 
losing  your  services.  There  *s  a  shipment  through 
Ghent  that  you  might  look  after  while  you're 
waiting  for  the  hearse." 

Thorpe's  deadly  earnestness  cracked  into  a 
half  reluctant  grin. 

"  You're  a  peach  of  a  Job's  comforter,  you 
are!  Dig  up  the  invoices  of  that  shipment  muy 
pronto,  or  I'll  challenge  you." 

Invoices  and  instructions  were  promptly  forth- 
coming. Thorpe  took  the  shipment  to  the  dis- 
tributing agents,  who  were  up  the  Lys  River, 
southwest  from  Ghent,  towards  Ypres  and  Lille. 
In  three  days  he  was  back  again  at  Brussels. 
His  first  act  was  to  call  on  Lee. 

"  Nothing  doing,"  reported  the  Virginian. 
"  No  buzz  from  the  buzzard.  He  must  be  eat- 


360  The  Blond  Beast 

ing  crow  —  or  hatching  out  rattlesnake  eggs. 
—  By  the  way,  Miss  Carew  wanted  you  to  call  her 
up,  soon  as  you  pulled  in ...  At  her  pension . . . 
Bather  done  up,  I'm  afraid.  Looked  kind  of 
pale  under  the  gills.  Say,  but  she's  the  real 
goods.  Seems  her  German  fiance  brought  on  a 
slew  of  trunks  for  her  from  Berlin.  She  has 
turned  all  over  for  the  Belgian  ladies  that  the 
Huns  stripped." 

Thorpe  was  already  half  through  the  doorway. 

When  he  reached  the  pension  and  impetuously 
burst  into  Lucy's  reception  room,  Kurt  was 
pacing  the  floor,  too  perturbed  to  stand  still. 
Lucy  sat  at  the  table,  as  quiescent  as  her  fiance 
was  restless.  The  corners  of  her  mouth  drooped. 
There  were  black  circles  under  her  eyes.  The 
look  she  gave  Thorpe  was  dart  with  misery 
and  despair. 

"  Oh,  Lan!  If  only  we  could  have  wired  you 
to  try  breaking  through  the  lines!  No  chance 
any  other  way." 

"  What  has  that  devil  done  now?  "  demanded 
Thorpe. 

Kurt  tried  to  speak,  choked,  and  turned  away 
with  a  gesture  of  impotence.  Lucy's  face  had 
flamed  scarlet. 

"He  —  wants  —  me,"  she  murmured.  "You 
are  to  testify  to  relations  with  Elsa  that  will 
give  him  a  divorce,  or  I  am  to  —  be  his  —  with- 
out —  marriage.  * ' 

Thorpe  found  himself  of  a  sudden  strangely 
cool. 

"  What's  the   alternative?  "  he  asked. 

"  Court-martial  for  the  both  of  us  as  spies," 


The  Eagle's  Beak  361 

answered  Lucy  in  a  hopeless,  listless  tone.  "  You 
remember  those  silly  snapshots  of  mine  —  and 
that  he  found  them  at  Montmar?  With  them 
was  some  of  my  writing.  He  has  forged  enough 
more  to  condemn  you  also.  I  have  inquired 
of  our  Minister  to  Belgium.  If  we  are  arrested, 
he  can  do  no  more  than  protest.  Now  that 
Belgium  is  conquered,  he  stays  here  only  on 
sufferance. ' ' 

11  I  see. —  Well,  Kurt,  how  about  you?  Are 
you  going  to  stand  for  it?  " 

Kurt  flung  out  his  quivering  passion-crooked 
hands. 

"  God  smite  that  devil!  She  is  mine  —  mine! 
He  has  wrecked  my  sister 's  life . . .  Now  he 
wants  my  betrothed  also!  But  he  shall  not 
have  her!  " 

"  You'll  challenge  him?  " 

"It  is  too  late !  If  only  I  had  known  this 
morning ! . . .  Lucy  waited  till  I  came  here  to  take 
leave.  The  crafty  devil  had  me  ordered  to  Lille. 
There  is  no  time  for  a  court  of  honor  to  arrange 
a  meeting.  I  must  start  this  evening. .  .But  I 
cannot  endure  it!  I  will  first  go  and  shoot  him 
down  like  the  beast  he  is!  Ill  tear  out  his 
black  heart  —  I'll—  " 

"  Hold  on,  old  man,"  said  Thorpe,  and  he 
blocked  the  way  of  his  outrushing  friend.  "  That 
would  be  called  murder  by  our  highly  Jcultured 
disciples  of  frightfulness.  Why  not  try  a  little 
strategy?  " 

"  He  is  too  crafty!  There  is  only  the  one 
way.  I  must  —  ' ' 

"  Cut   it!     Listen  —  Suppose   you   invite   me 


362  The  Blond  Beast 

and  Von  Pappheim  and  a  few  other  officers  to 
a  little  farewell  dinner?  I  will  create  a  diver- 
sion, during  which  you  and  Lucy  can  slip  out 
of  the  city  together.  She  can  travel  as  your 
wife  or  as  a  Red  Cross  nurse.  There  must  be 
some  way  by  which  you  can  smuggle  her  out 
through  the  lines  to  the  British." 

"But  that  devil  — he  will  follow!  He  will 
overtake  us!  " 

"  If  he  does,  you'll  still  have  your  pistol.  But 
I  will  do  what  I  can  to  keep  him  here.  If  I 
have  luck,  you'll  see  me  instead  of  him." 

Lucy's  eyes  glowed.  "  I'll  let  you  try  it,  Lan. 
It's  better  for  you  than  a  wall  and  a  firing 
squad.  You'll  challenge  him?  " 

"  No.     He'll  challenge  me." 

"  Impossible!  "  exclaimed  Kurt.  "  You  are 
only  a  civilian,  and  he  has  the  more  certain 
way  of  getting  rid  of  you." 

"  Wait  and  see.  Hop  lively,  old  man.  Land 
him  first;  then  at  least  half  a  dozen  other  offi- 
cers —  young  ones.  So-long,  Loo  I  " 

Lucy  clung  to  his  hand  while  she  held  her 
cheek  for  Kurt's  fervent  but  hasty  kiss. 

At  the  street  door  Thorpe  held  back  until 
Kurt  had  turned  the  corner  before  he  started 
for  Belief  headquarters.  On  arriving  there,  he 
wrote  out  his  resignation.  This  he  sealed  up 
and  gave  to  Lee,  with  the  request  to  ' '  misplace  ' r 
it  for  a  day  or  two. 

An  hour  later  Kurt  was  introducing  him  to 
seven  young  staff  officers  in  a  private  dining 
room  of  Brussels'  most  fashionable  hotel.  All 
were  very  cordial,  for  Von  Pappheim  had  not 


The  Eagle's  Beak  363 

yet  arrived,  and  Kurt  exaggerated  Thorpe's 
services  as  volunteer  during  the  campaign  to 
the  Marne.  There  followed  a  rather  prolonged 
delay.  Thorpe  suggested  a  champagne  toast 
to  good-fellowship.  It  was  drunk  standing. 

As  the  empty  glasses  were  lowered,  Von  Papp- 
heim  came  in,  rather  more  haughty  than  usual. 
He  drew  himself  up  while  his  juniors  clicked 
heels  and  saluted.  Thorpe  had  taken  a  position 
near  the  entrance.  He  stepped  up  to  Von  Papp- 
heim  from  the  side  and  spoke  to  him  in  a  clear- 
cut,  deliberate  tone  that  reached  every  ear  in 
the  room: 

"  Count  von  Pappheim,  permit  me  to  observe 
that  I  do  not  like  the  shape  of  your  nose." 

With  the  swift  jab  of  a  boxer,  his  hand  darted 
up  to  grasp  the  objectionable  feature.  The 
astounded  count  tottered  after  his  outraged  nose 
half  across  the  room  before  Thorpe  released 
his  grip  and  coolly  stepped  clear. 

From  the  other  guests  came  gasps  and  mur- 
murs, followed  by  a  single  derisive  titter.  Von 
Pappheim  jerked  his  sword  from  the  scabbard 
—  and  found  himself  looking  into  the  muzzle 
of  his  brother-in-law's  pistol. 

"  Gentlemen,  kindly  do  not  interfere,"  Kurt 
called  to  his  guests.  "  As  you  perceive,  this 
is  an  affair  of  honor." 

11  Not  on  the  part  of  Count  von  Pappheim," 
broke  in  Thorpe.  "  He  is  a  poltroon,  a — " 

"  Liar!  spy!  "  shouted  the  insulted  major.  "  I 
will  have  you  shot,  you  schwemhund!  ' 

*  *  You  hear  him,  gentlemen  —  afraid  to  meet 
me  —  afraid  to  challenge  one  of  those  meek 


364  The  Blond  Beast 

Americans  who  never  will  fight!  On  his  breast 
the  Red  Eagle.  Within  it—" 

"  Donnerwetter!  "  cursed  Von  Pappheim,  up- 
lifting his  sword. 

Thorpe  pulled  a  doleful  face.  "  So  sad,  night? 
Under  the  Red  Eagle  a  chicken  heart.  But  on 
his  face  an  eagle  beak  —  ja,  ja,  a  red  eagle 
beak." 

Von  Pappheim 's  rage  froze  into  icy  malig- 
nancy. He  lowered  his  sword. 

"  God  with  me!  "  he  blasphemed.  "  I  will 
slice  off  your  ears.  I  will- " 

The  hideousness  of  the  last  threat  made  even 
his  fellow  officers  shudder  as  they  came  in 
between  him  and  the  two  friends.  Thorpe  nudged 
Kurt  to  leave,  and  replied  to  the  threatener  with 
punctilious  politeness : 

"  The  second  of  Count  Wolf  von  Pappheim 
will  be  welcomed  by  my  friend,  Mr.  Lee,  of  the 
Relief  Commission.  The  Herr  Count  is  requested 
to  bear  in  mind  that  the  slightest  attempt  to 
prefer  any  false  charges  of  espionage  before 
this  affair  is  concluded,  will  obtrude  the  red 
eagle's  beak  into  every  newspaper  from  Berlin 
to  Hong  Kong. —  I  see  that  the  delicacy  of  Cap- 
tain von  KissePs  position  has  forced  him  to 
withdraw.  But  I  know  he  will  be  grieved  if  his 
uninvolved  guests  do  not  remain  to  dine  and 
drink  success  to  him  at  the  Front." 

All  except  Von  Pappheim  responded  to  the 
parting  bow  of  the  American  with  unfeigned 
cordiality  that  held  more  than  a  hint  of  respect. 
He  had  forced  a  meeting  with  one  of  the  most 
dreaded  duelists  of  all  Prussia. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
PISTOLS  AT  SUNRISE. 

The  representative  sent  by  Von  Pappheim 
came  within  the  half  hour.  He  was  not  one 
of  the  dinner  guests.  Lee  motioned  Thorpe  into 
an  adjoining  room,  and  listened  to  the  politely 
delivered  formal  challenge  with  due  sobriety. 

"  On  behalf  of  my  principal,  Mr.  Thorpe, 
I  take  pleasure  in  accepting  the  challenge  of 
Count  Wolf  von  Pappheim,"  he  replied.  "  Our 
terms  are:  Fully  loaded  automatic  mauser  pis- 
tols at  four  paces,  principals  to  stand  with 
weapons  down  at  arm's-length,  to  begin  shoot- 
ing at  the  word  *  Fire  *  and  continue  at  will." 

"  Pardon,  Herr  Lee.  A  court  of  honor  would 
require  rapiers  or  sabres." 

"  This  is  not  an  army  affair.  In  accordance 
with  the  code  duello,  the  challenged  party  names 
the  terms." 

' '  But  automatics  —  at  four  paces !  You  can- 
not insist!  " 

"  Oh,  no.  We  do  not  insist.  We  will  agree 
to  three  paces  —  or  two,  if  you  prefer." 

The  officer  threw  up  his  hands.  "Schrecktich! 
Twenty  paces  it  should  be,  at  the  very  least." 

"  I'd  say  sixty,  with  blank  cartridges,  if  it 
was  my  affair,"  gravely  remarked  the  Virginian. 

365 


366  The  Blond  Beast 

"  However,  every  man  to  his  taste.  My  princi- 
pal may  believe  your  principal  to  he  a  four- 
flusher.  At  any  rate,  four  is  our  limit.  We 
stand  pat  on  that.  Do  you  call  us,  or  do  you 
lay  down?  " 

"  Bitte?  " 

11 1  inquire,  do  you  accept  the  terms  for  your 
principal,  or  do  we  post  him  as  a  poltroon?  ' 

The  German  stiffened.  "Accepted.  —  The 
time  and  place?  " 

"  Nearest  point  of  the  woods  east  of  the  city, 
at  sunrise  —  or  at  the  time  the  sun  should  rise 
if  it  wasn't  for  those  blamed  chilly  fogs." 

"  Entirely  agreeable,  Herr  Lee.  You  may 
expect  us  punctually." 

Lee  bowed  him  out,  and  faced  about  to  his 
cool-eyed  principal  in  the  doorway  of  the  inner 
room. 

"  Get  that,  Thorpe.  We're  to  expect  them 
puncturely.  The  question  now  before  the  house 
is,  who's  to  be  punk,  and  who's  to  be  punctured. 
Do  the  ayes  have  it,  or  is  it  the  noes  —  the 
red  eagle  noes?  " 

"  Cut  it,"  said  Thorpe.  "  I'm  scared  all  right, 
but  I'm  scared  stiff.  My  knees  won't  wobble. 
Of  course  he'll  get  me.  But  I'll  have  at  least 
a  chance  to  lay  him  up  for  repairs  until  Loo  is 
safe.  I've  been  practising  that  finger-along-the- 
barrel  stunt  you  showed  me." 

"  Good  boy!  Let's  feed  and  then  go  by-by. 
I'll  set  the  old  alarm  clock  for  five.  Brrrh! 
Wish  we  could  postpone  the  joy-ride  till  noon 
next  June.  My  artistic  soul  abhors  these  Made- 
in-Flanders  October  sunrises.  They're  too  chill, 


Pistols  at  Sunrise  367 

too  unsympathetic,  too  —  ah  —  blank  wet-blan- 
kety.  However,  a  dash  of  sleet  will  account  for 
your  shivering.  Why  didn't  you  insist  on  three 
paces  —  and  machine-guns  I  " 

Thorpe  ate  little,  but  slept  well.  Morning 
found  him  in  the  same  mood  of  cool  despera- 
tion. Though  the  terms  of  the  meeting  gave  him 
a  fighting  chance  with  his  expert  enemy,  he 
knew  that  the  odds  were  heavily  against  him. 
He  had  fired  a  pistol  hardly  a  dozen  times  in 
all  his  life.  But  he  firmly  believed  that,  unless 
he  was  killed  outright  at  the  first  shot  or  two, 
his  determination  to  save  Lucy  and  avenge 
the  abuse  of  Elsa  would  enable  him  to  shoot 
straight. 

He  was  too  absorbed  to  perceive  the  real 
reason  why  Lee  asked  for  and  took  his  sparkling 
tie  pin  and  the  little  American-flag  lapel  but- 
ton. Nothing  so  assists  the  aim  of  a  duelist  as 
a  bright  point  on  the  breast  of  an  opponent. 
Lee's  grim  jest  was  that  mementos  were  the 
rightful  perquisites  of  a  second. 

The  dank,  dripping,  morning  mists  were  roll- 
ing and  breaking  when  Thorpe's  rusty  but  well- 
engined  old  racing  car  brought  him  and  Lee  to 
the  place  agreed  upon  for  the  meeting.  A  three- 
seated  cabriolet  emerged  from  a  wisp  of  fog 
just  ahead  and  stopped  at  sight  of  the  car. 
Out  popped  a  nervous  little  German  surgeon- 
lieutenant,  who  held  the  door  open  for  the  Ger- 
man second  and  Von  Pappheim.  Beside  his 
smaller  companions,  the  count  loomed  tall  and 
bulky,  especially  about  the  chest,  which  bulged 
like  a  pouter  pigeon's. 


368  The  Blond  Beast 

"  My  eye!  "  derided  Lee.  "  Maybe  you  can't 
hit  a  barn  door,  but  you  deserve  to  be  shot 
if  you  can't  hit  the  barn  itself." 

There  was  an  exchange  of  exceedingly  formal 
bows,  in  which  the  principals  did  not  participate. 
Von  Pappheim,  arrogant  and  impatient,  led  his 
party  around  behind  the  nearest  coppice.  Lee 
and  Thorpe  followed  to  within  a  few  yards  of 
where  the  others  halted.  The  German  second 
came  to  meet  Lee  half  way.  He  produced  for 
inspection  a  pair  of  mauser  automatics  and  two 
clips  of  cartridges. 

"  These  are  lead  bullets;  not  your  regular 
jacketed  kind,"  observed  Lee. 

"  Ja.  We  believed  your  principal  would  pre- 
fer bullets  that,  at  short  range,  are  more  mur- 
derous—  nichtf  " 

11  Sure,"  cheerfully  agreed  Lee,  and  he  made 
random  choice  of  a  pistol,  after  both  had  been 
loaded  by  his  fellow  second. 

The  German  then  drew  a  line,  and  stretched 
his  legs  in  four  long  strides. 

"  Hold  on,"  drawled  Lee.  "  The  average  pace 
is  only  thirty-two  inches." 

"  But  my  principal  paces  a  full  meter." 

"  When  returning  from  the  Marne,"  mur- 
mured Lee  to  himself.  He  spoke  out  in  a  tone 
of  flat  finality.  "  We'll  split  and  call  it  four 
yards,  but  your  man  must  toe  the  scratch.  Here's 
a  tape  line  I  brought  along  as  first-aid." 

When  the  distance  had  been  measured  off 
with  scrupulous  exactness,  the  German  suavely 
remarked :  ' '  Because  of  the  chill  and  dampness, 
my  principal  will  remove  only  his  helmet." 


Pistols  at  Sunrise  369 

"  All  right,"  agreed  Lee.  "  We've  got  the 
shivers  just  as  bad  ourselves.  Let's  get  busy. 
This  affair  is  getting  dangerous.  We  may  all 
catch  la  grippe." 

"  Bitte?  ''  blankly  murmured  the  perplexed 
German. 

Each  led  his  principal  to  one  of  the  marked 
positions.  They  then  drew  back  a  few  paces 
together,  at  right  angles  to  the  line  of  fire.  The 
little  surgeon  hurried  behind  a  big  tree  and 
faced  away.  In  the  remote  event  of  a  court- 
martial,  he  was  to  be  able  to  take  oath  that  he 
had  seen  no  shots  fired. 

"  Attention!  "  called  the  German  second. 
"  All  is  now  ready.  When  Herr  Lee  gives  com- 
mand, you  will  begin  shooting." 

Lee  glanced  at  Thorpe  and  saw  the  forefinger 
of  his  right  hand  lying  parallel  along  the  down- 
pointed  pistol  barrel.  This  was  on  the  American 
cavalry  theory  that  an  out-thrust  forefinger  will 
automatically  cover  the  target,  without  need  of 
eye-sighting.  Lee  flicked  his  glance  towards 
Von  Pappheim.  The  Prussian  had  braced  one 
foot  to  the  rear  and  was  leaning  his  protuberant 
chest  forward  as  if  to  meet  a  heavy  blow.  At 
this  aggressive  movement,  Thorpe  tightened  his 
fists,  with  the  instinctive  response  of  a  boxer. 
The  rigidly  straight  forefinger  of  his  pistol  hand 
crooked  back  to  the  trigger,  in  place  of  the  second 
finger. 

"  Fire!  "  cried  Lee. 

Thorpe's  right  hand  darted  forward  as  if  to 
jab  his  opponent  in  the  solar  plexus.  At  the 
same  instant  his  finger  began  jerking  rapidly 


370  The  Blond  Beast 

at  the  pistol  trigger.  ..Von  Pappheim,  with  pis- 
tol only  half  raised,  reeled  as  if  hit  on  the  chest 
with  a  sledge,  and  toppled  over  backwards.  He 
thudded  down  flat  on  his  back  and  lay  motion- 
less, the  unfired  pistol  slipping  out  of  his  flaccid 
hand.  A  scarlet  blotch  spread  swiftly  down 
through  his  tow  pompadour  below  the  spot  struck 
by  the  third  bullet  of  Thorpe's  up-kicking  pistol. 

"  Schrecklich!  "  yelled  the  astounded  German 
second.  "  Through  the  head!  Kaput!  —  All 
that  wadding  wasted!  Donnerwetterl  " 

He  started  to  bound  forward,  and  stopped 
short.  Thorpe  had  pointed  his  pistol  down  at 
the  fallen  man,  and  stood  poised,  waiting  for 
him  to  move.  The  little  surgeon,  half  around 
the  tree,  popped  back  again  out  of  sight.  But 
Von  Pappheim  did  not  stir.  He  lay  deathly  still. 
Lee  stepped  forward,  and  bent  over  the  inert 
body. 

"  Enough,  Thorpe,"  he  called.  "  One  in  the 
head  and  two  in  the  chest,  both  of  which  must 
have —  " 

The  drawling  remark  broke  off  abruptly  as 
the  utterer's  hasty  jerk  flung  open  Von  Papp- 
heim's  overcoat.  Lee  snatched  up  the  unfired 
pistol,  and  confronted  his  fellow  second. 

"  The  skunk!  — You  knew  it,  too!  " 

The  German  smiled  cynically.  "  Stratagem 
is  the  soul  of  war.  A  duel  is  private  warfare. 
The  terms  agreed  upon  did  not  forbid  the  use 
of  defensive  protection." 

"  Nor  do  they  forbid  my  shooting  you  down 
for  your  dirty  treachery. —  Thorpe,  come  and 
look  while  I  keep  him  covered." 


Pistols  at  Sunrise  371 

Thorpe  came  stiffly  forward  and  stooped  down. 
The  cause  of  Von  Pappheim's  inflated  chest  was 
now  self-evident.  The  upper  part  of  his  over- 
coat was  lined  with  a  coverless  atlas,  half  an 
inch  thick.  Across  the  front  of  his  body  hung 
a  piece  of  medieval  ring-mail  from  the  Brussels 
museum.  Thorpe  drew  it  aside  and  jerked  open 
the  field-gray  uniform  coat.  Under  it  was  a 
second  wadding  of  atlas  paper,  also  half  an  inch 
thick.  He  ripped  open  the  shirt.  There  were 
no  wounds  —  only  two  big  bruises.  Neither 
bullet  had  pierced  the  "  defensive  protection." 

The  attempt  to  stretch  the  agreed  distance  and 
the  all-lead  bullets  were  now  also  explained.  At 
twelve  feet  a  steel-tipped  bullet  would  have  gone 
through  everything.  But  lead  is  not  good  for 
penetrating  books  —  and  the  bullets  may  have 
been  backed  by  only  light  charges  of  powder. 
Even  at  that,  however,  one  of  them  had  pene- 
trated the  outer  paper  armor  and  splattered 
through  the  links  of  the  ring-mail.  Thorpe's 
finger,  probing  into  the  torn  uniform,  felt  a  flat 
packet.  One  look  at  the  lead-ripped  envelope 
was  enough.  He  held  it  up  before  the  German 
officer  and  the  forward-edging  surgeon. 

"  This,  herr,  as  you  see,  is  in  the  handwriting 
of  a  lady.  It  is  the  property  of  a  friend  of 
mine,  and  was  stolen  by  Count  von  Pappheim. 
Do  I  take  it  by  your  consent,  or  do  I  take  his 
overcoat,  jacket  and  defensive  protection  for 
public  exhibition?  " 

"  Himmel! "  ejaculated  the  officer,  and  he 
dropped  on  his  knees  so  that  his  body  hid  Von 
Pappheim's  face.  "  In  God's  name,  take  the 


372  The  Blond  Beast 

lady 's    love   notes  —  take    tlieni   and    begone !  ' 

"  You'll  make  this  out  an  accident  I  "  de- 
manded Lee.  "  No  charges  of  any  kind  to  be 
made  against  us?  " 

"  Ja,  ja,  my  word  to  it.  Go!  —  leave  us  alone 
with  our  dead." 

Passing  the  cabriolet,  Lee  jabbed  his  penknife 
blade  into  one  of  the  tires. 

"  A  stick  in  time  may  save  thine,"  he  observed. 
1  *  There 's  no  trusting  Hun  treaties  —  when  they 
use  their  scraps  of  paper  to  line  their  craws." 

The  racing  car  fairly  burned  up  the  road  until 
it  whirled  into  Brussels.  Thorpe  dropped  Lee 
on  the  outskirts.  A  brief  handgrip,  a  word  of 
thanks,  a  dry  joke  from  the  Virginian,  and 
Thorpe  circled  off  through  the  suburbs.  At  the 
Von  Pappheim  mansion  a  new  orderly  was  on 
guard.  Thorpe  dashed  up  into  the  portico. 

1 1  Quick !  quick !  "  he  cried  breathlessly  in 
German.  "  The  count  is  hurt!  A  message  to 
the  countess!  " 

He  had  only  a  minute  or  so  to  warm  his 
hands  at  the  grate  fire  in  the  reception  hall. 
Elsa  came  hurrying  down  the  stairway,  a  dress- 
ing robe  flung  about  her  robe  de  nuit,  and  her 
snowy  ankles  showing  above  the  fur-topped 
Juliets.  Two  thick  braids  of  spun  gold  glinted 
on  her  heaving  bosom. 

At  sight  of  Thorpe  her  tear-swollen  sleep- 
blurred  eyes  stretched  still  wider  open.  He 
authoritatively  shook  the  packet  of  snapshots  and 
forgeries  at  the  sour-faced  housekeeper,  who 
was  hastening  in  from  the  rear  hall. 

"  Out  with  vou!  "  he  commanded.     "  This  is 


Pistols  at  Sunrise  373 

direct  from  the  count.    A  matter  not  for  meni- 
als.    Go!" 

"  You  —  you  come  from  the  herr  count?  "  fal- 
tered Elsa. 

"  Yes,"  said  Thorpe,  sparring  for  time  while 
his  stony  gaze  watched  the  slowly  retreating 
housekeeper.  "  Look  for  yourself  at  these  writ- 
ings. I  have  them  from  him." 

"Writings?  —  Lucy's!. .  .But  the  herr  count? 
They  said  he  is  —  is  hurt!  " 

Thorpe  saw  the  housekeeper  disappear.  He 
shifted  his  gaze  to  Elsa's  distraught  face. 

"  Good  news,  my  Elschen!  "  he  whispered. 
"  These  are  the  forgeries  by  which  that  devil 
was  seeking  to  force  Lucy  to  give  herself  to 
him.  Look  —  this  frees  her  and  me  from  the 
charges  of  spying." 

A  toss  sent  snapshots,  film,  forgeries  and 
envelope  all  together  into  the  midst  of  the 
flaming  grate. 

"  Better  news  still  —  you  are  free,  free  from 
him  for  all  time,  my  dear  sweet  Elschen!  I 
have  come  to  take  you  away  with  me.  We  shall 
go  to  Kurt,  and  then  —  ' ' 

"Free?"  gasped  Elsa.  "You  mean  —  you 
cannot  mean —  " 

Thorpe's  compassionate  hazel  eyes  glinted  and 
hardened. 

"  The  treacherous  hound  had  on  armor  — 
armor  hidden  under  his  coat.  But  the  third 
bullet  struck  his  head" 

"  Ach!  ach!  "  shrieked  the  girl- wife.  "  Dead! 
he  is  dead !  —  And  you  have  killed  him ! . . .  Dead ! 
my  noble  Wolf!  my  husband!. .  .Ach!  acht  For 


374  The  Blond  Beast 

you  to  stand  and  tell  me  —  tell  me  with  your 
own  lips!  Murderer!  low  foreigner  that  you 
are ! ...  To  rob  me  of  my  husband !  my  Wolf ! 
my  high-born  Wolf!  —  Achl  ach!  achl  " 

Servants  came  running  from  all  directions. 
Thorpe,  astounded,  bewildered,  cut  to  the  quick, 
drew  away  from  the  screaming,  hysterical  bride. 
Near  the  outer  entrance  the  orderly  sought  to 
bar  his  way.  A  fist  blow  on  the  point  of  the 
jaw  sent  the  clumsy  boor  reeling. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
FLIGHT 

Back  in  his  racing  car,  Thorpe  drove  towards 
the  center  of  the  city  until  out  of  sight  of  the 
Von  Pappheim  mansion,  then  turned  abruptly 
westward.  Once  clear  of  the  suburbs,  he  put 
on  full  speed.  As  there  had  been  no  fighting 
directly  west,  between  Brussels  and  the  new 
Front,  the  roads  had  not  been  pitted  with  shell 
craters,  and  most  of  them  were  in  fairly  good 
condition.  He  made  the  Scheldt,  a  few  miles 
east  of  Courtrai,  in  an  hour. 

A  run  southwest,  up  along  the  east  side  of  the 
river,  avoiding  the  roads  most  crowded  with  Ger- 
man supply  transports,  brought  him  opposite 
Eoubaix  by  mid-forenoon.  At  Koubaix  he  was 
held  up  by  a  suspicious  German  captain.  But 
his  credentials  as  a  worker  with  the  Belief  Com- 
mission, his  fluent  German,  and  the  free  use  of 
Kurt's  name,  at  last  won  him  a  pass  through 
to  Lille. 

Shortly  after  noon  he  reached  the  hotel  that 
Kurt  had  named  for  the  meeting.  When  he  told 
that  he  was  the  gentleman  expected  by  Captain 
von  Kissel  he  was  at  once  shown  upstairs. 
Before  the  door  to  which  he  was  ushered  he 
dismissed  the  hotel  attendant,  knocked,  and 
stepped  in. 

375 


At  first  glance  he  might  not  have  recognized 
Lucy,  who  was  in  the  costume  of  a  German  Red 
Cross  deaconess.  But  Kurt  was  seated  close 
to  her,  clinging  to  her  hand.  His  flushed  face, 
no  less  than  his  posture,  showed  the  agitation 
and  ardor  with  which  he  had  been  pleading. 
Lucy  sprang  up  and  darted  to  meet  Thorpe,  her 
drooping  lips  suddenly  curved  in  a  smile  of 
joyful  relief,  her  anxiety-clouded  eyes  beaming. 

' '  Lan !  —  They   haven 't    caught   you  —  yet !  '  ' 

The  relief  and  gladness  in  her  lovely  eyes  and 
the  affectionate  clasp  of  her  hands  gave  Thorpe 
an  irresistible  impulse. 

"  With  Kurt's  permission!  "  he  said,  and  he 
pressed  what  he  intended  for  a  brotherly  kiss 
full  upon  her  smiling  red  lips.  She  jerked  her 
hands  free  to  hide  her  flaming  face. 

"  Oh,  oh,  Lan!    How  could  you!  "  she  sobbed. 

Kurt  sprang  to  clasp  his  arm  protectingly 
about  her  quivering  shoulders.  The  look  he  fixed 
upon  Thorpe  was  hot  with  resentment. 

"  How  dare  you?  "  he  demanded.  "  She  is 
my  betrothed  —  mine.  And  you  pretending  to 
love  Elsa!  You  will  apologize!  " 

The  swift  subsidence  of  Thorpe's  emotional 
up-welling  left  him  more  than  grave.  That 
impulsive,  unpremeditated  kiss  had,  as  it  were, 
unlocked  a  sealed  chamber  in  his  heart.  In  a 
flash  of  self-revelation  he  saw  the  truth.  And 
with  this  realization  came  darting  before  him 
sparks  of  memory  —  remembrances  of  words, 
looks,  incidents,  all  now  vividly  clear  and  focused 
on  a  common  center. .  .But  realization  that  comes 
too  late  can  give  only  bitter  regret  and  sorrow. 


Flight  377 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Kurt.  I  know  you'll 
excuse  me  when  you  take  into  consideration  that 
Lucy  and  I  are  Americans  —  and  old  friends  — 
children  together. .  .Your  German  life  is  so  dif- 
ferent. .  .But  I  know  you'll  take  my  word  for  it 
that  I  have  no  thought  of  offending  her  or  you 
—  the  only  real  friends  I  have." 

With  a  generous  self-reproach  as  intense  as 
had  been  his  resentment,  Kurt  grasped  the  hands 
of  his  friend. 

"No  more  —  no  more,  Allan!  I  should  be 
the  one  to  ask  pardon!  Only  this  fear  for 
you  both  —  it  will  drive  me  mad !  If  Lucy  would 
marry  me,  you  might  be  able  to  slip  through 
alone.  As  my  wife,  I  could  protect  her  even 
against  Von  Pappheim.  But  no,  she  insists  on 
going  with  you  —  to  see  for  herself  that  you 
escape." 

Lucy  looked  up  at  Thorpe,  her  face  now  white, 
but  her  eyes  clear  and  unwavering. 

"  I  am  trying  to  make  Kurt  see  why  I  cannot 
marry  him  now,"  she  said.  "  It  would  seem 
as  if  I  were  doing  it  merely  to  save  myself.  I 
will  not  be  forced  into  it.  But  he  has  my  promise 
that  it  shall  take  place  just  as  soon  as  he  can 
come  to  me,  at  my  home  —  if  you  and  I  escape, 
Lan." 

The  shudder  that  followed  the  girl's  last  words 
impelled  Thorpe  to  a  hasty  attempt  at  reassur- 
ance: "  Buck  up,  Loo.  The  odds  are  with  us 
now.  Though  Pappheim  wore  a  chest  protector, 
my  pistol  made  a  lucky  jump  —  got  him  in  the 
head.  So  now  —  ' ' 

"  Worse  than  ever!  "  broke  in  Kurt.    "  Wire 


378  The  Blond  Beast 

from  Brussels  to  staff  headquarters  here,  de- 
scribing you  and  Lucy  as  spies  and  also  charg- 
ing you  with —  " 

"  No  proofs,  "  said  Thorpe.  "  Lucy  at  least 
is  safe.  I  found  all  on  Pappheim  —  snapshots, 
his  forgeries,  everything.  They're  gone  now  — 
burnt  up.  And  with  him  dead —  " 

"  But  he's  not,  Lan,  he's  not!  "  cried  Lucy. 
"  Tell  him,  Kurt.  " 

"  He  himself  sent  the  wire,"  said  Kurt. 

"Impossible!  I  saw  the  wound  close  to  — 
just  above  the  forehead.  He  never  stirred  after 
he  fell  on  his  back." 

"  Stunned,"  suggested  Kurt.  "  Your  bullet 
must  have  glanced  on  his  skull.  Anyway,  the 
telegram  came  with  his  name  as  sender.  You're 
charged  with  robbery  and  deadly  assault  upon 
an  officer. .  .That  was  only  half  an  hour  ago.  I 
cut  my  staff  work  and  rushed  here  to  see  if 
you  had  come.  No  doubt  orders  have  been  sent 
out  already  and  posters  are  being  printed.  Of 
course  he  is  wiring  elsewhere  —  to  all  points  on 
this  Front,  from  Holland  around  to  here  and  on 
down  into  France." 

Thorpe  thought  quickly.  If  Lucy  should  be 
taken  in  his  company,  there  would  be  no  hope 
for  her.  She  was  pledged  to  marry  Kurt  later. 
She  must  be  saved  at  all  cost.  The  only  chance 
seemed  to  lie  in  immediate  marriage  to  Kurt. 
She  must  be  forced  to  consent.  Thorpe  could 
think  of  only  one  way  to  break  her  determination. 

"  That  devil!  "  he  muttered.  "  Must  be  furi- 
ous. If  he  gets  me  now!. .  .Loo,  why  don't  you 
do  as  Kurt  wishes  f . . .  With  you  along  I  won 't 


Plight  379 

have  half  the  chance  —  Haven't  I  done  enough 
for  you  already?  " 

The  eager  delight  that  beamed  from  Kurt's 
anxious  eyes  blurred  into  a  bewilderment  in 
which  loyal  faith  struggled  against  a  rising  jeal- 
ousy. But  Lucy's  gaze  never  wavered.  Before 
the  look  in  her  clear  eyes  Thorpe  flushed  and 
stared  over  her  head. 

"  Don't  you  think  you're  smart,  Lan  Thorpe?  " 
she  scoffed.  "  You  always  were  a  fizzle  at  make- 
believe. .  .Kurt  will  write  a  semi-official  note, 
recommending  you  as  Herr  A.  Thorpe  from  Ber- 
lin, a  personal  friend  whose  offer  to  volunteer 
for  Red  Cross  work  was  personally  accepted  by 
the  High  Commander  of  the  Third  Army,  and 
who  served  through  the  Marne  campaign.  Mean- 
time, you  will  go  down  the  back  stairs  to  the 
shops  in  the  side  street.  Try  to  get  clothes, 
hat,  pipe  and  glasses  like  those  of  a  German 
professor.  I  have  Bed  Cross  armlets  for  you." 

"  But,  Loo,  you  must  stay  and  marry  Kurt. 
If  you're  caught !... Promise  you'll  stay." 

"  You  know  I'd  stay  if  I  thought  it  would 
give  you  a  better  chance,"  she  said.  "  But  it's 
just  the  opposite.  My  dress  is  what  will  put 
over  the  act.  Do  as  I  say,  at  once." 

Thorpe  met  Kurt's  look,  shook  his  head  help- 
lessly, and  obeyed. 

He  returned  another  man.  By  good  chance 
he  had  found  the  shop  of  an  old  French  costumer 
in  the  side  street  and  had  risked  everything  by 
telling  the  man  his  need  to  escape.  His  Belief 
Commission  credentials  had  carried  conviction. 
Nothing  could  gratify  the  old  Frenchman  more 


380  The  Blond  Beast 

than  to  help  balk  the  Boehes.  There  was  no 
crudeness  about  his  work.  The  clothes  were 
commonplace  yet  suggestive  of  German  style,  the 
goggles  were  merely  tinted.  His  master  touch 
came  in  the  mustache,  which  presented  an  ab- 
surdly ineffectual  yet  loyal  effort  to  imitate 
the  tushes  of  Majestdt. 

A  blond  wig  and  a  pair  of  coarse,  low-heeled 
shoes  had  been  sent  for  Lucy.  She  decided  that 
the  wig  made  too  unnatural  a  contrast  with  her 
dark  eyebrows  and  lashes.  But  she  put  on  the 
shoes,  and  with  them  a  heavy  German  manner. 

In  exchange  for  Kurt's  note  and  a  verbal  list 
of  German  positions  near  Lille,  Thorpe  handed 
over  his  Relief  Commission  credentials  to  be 
destroyed. 

"  Time  to  start,"  he  said. 

"  Save  her  for  me!  "  murmured  Kurt. 

His  lips  quivered  and  his  eyes  became  violet 
as  he  held  out  his  arms  to  Lucy.  She  passively 
submitted  to  his  farewell  embrace  and  kisses 
until  Thorpe,  who  had  turned  to  the  door,  uttered 
an  impatient  call.  Left  alone  in  the  room,  Kurt 
paced  back  and  forth  for  a  moment.  The  arrange- 
ment was  for  him  to  go  out  through  the  main 
entrance.  Thorpe  and  Lucy  went  down  the  back 
stairs  and  out  through  a  covered  court  to  the 
side  street. 

"  Hope  you're  good  for  a  stiff  hike,  Gretchen," 
he  said.  "  My  car  would  have  been  a  dead 
give-away.  I  left  it  around  the  corner  from 
the  shop  of  our  French  friend.  He  agreed  to 
have  it  run  off  to  another  quarter  of  the  city." 

"  Vorwdrts,  Uerr  Dorp."    Lucy's  attempt  at 


Flight  381 

a  guttural  accent  was  not  an  unqualified  success. 

Thorpe  hesitated  whether  to  start  southwest 
towards  La  Bassee  or  northwest  for  Armentieres. 
He  decided  on  the  latter,  as  Kurt  had  thought 
there  were  some  Saxons  in  that  direction. 

In  the  outskirts  they  came  to  a  guardhouse 
before  which  a  fresh  army  poster  was  being 
pasted  up.  Thorpe  and  Lucy  were  caught  in 
the  crowd  of  soldiers  who  came  flocking  to  read 
the  poster.  It  described  the  fugitives  and  told 
the  crimes  of  which  they  were  accused,  offering 
a  reward  for  their  capture  and  threatening  dire 
punishment  to  all  civilians  who  should  shelter 
or  aid  them. 

Thorpe  edified  the  crowd  with  a  violent  denun- 
ciation of  all  schweinhund  spies  and  enemies 
of  the  Fatherland,  wrhile  Lucy  chimed  in  with 
guttural  "  Ja!  jas!  '  The  mock-loyal  effusion 
won  them  seats  on  an  out-bound  truck  of  muni- 
tions. Thorpe  was  convincingly  condescending 
to  the  truck-driver  and  pumped  out  of  him  all 
that  the  man  knew  about  the  troops  ahead. 

After  the  truck  had  turned  to  run  squarely 
towards  the  line  of  shell  smoke,  and  the  all  too 
familiar  thunder  of  the  guns  began  to  roar  close 
ahead,  Thorpe  took  friendly  leave  of  the  helpful 
driver.  He  and  Lucy  trudged  off  northwards, 
looking  for  a  break  in  the  battle  front  through 
which  they  might  slip  after  nightfall. 

Trains  of  transport  wagons  and  trucks  were 
coming  and  going  from  the  front.  Fresh  troops 
and  artillery  were  rushing  forward,  shattered 
regiments  were  withdrawing,  wounded  men  were 
limping  to  the  rear.  Everyone  was  too  intent 


382  The  Blond  Beast 

upon  his  own  concerns  to  heed  the  couple  that 
passed  by  with  the  bearing  of  persons  who  have 
a  very  definite  destination  in  view. 

If  an  officer  looked  at  .them,  Thorpe  saluted 
and  respectfully  inquired  what  regiment  occu- 
pied the  next  position  to  the  north.  Once  a 
morosely  suspicious  Bavarian  stopped  to  growl 
a  harsh  command  for  them  to  account  for  them- 
selves. Thorpe  flurriedly  handed  over  Kurt's 
note  and  launched  into  an  extravagant  laudation 
of  how  the  Imperial  Prussian  Guard  had  fought 
at  the  battle  of  Charleroi.  No  one  hates  the 
Prussians  more  than  do  the  Bavarians.  The 
officer  flung  the  note  back  at  Thorpe  and  told 
him  to  go  to  the  devil  with  his  Red  Cross  wench. 

Toward  sunset  a  drizzling  rain  set  in.  They 
came  to  where  there  was  a  gap  in  the  battle  line 
or  it  bowed  away  westward  out  of  sight.  The 
last  German  soldiers  and  wagons  had  been 
passed  half  a  mile  back.  From  a  turn  in  the 
road  where  a  battery  had  fired  several  shells 
at  the  British,  Thorpe  picked  up  an  empty  shell 
basket  as  he  helped  Lucy  over  the  ditch.  They 
cut  across  the  fields  towards  a  small  farmhouse. 

Though  unharmed  by  gunfire,  the  place  ap- 
peared to  be  deserted.  There  were  no  fowls 
or  animals  about,  and  no  smoke  rose  from 
the  chimney.  Passing  the  pig  stye  Thorpe 
chanced  to  glance  inside.  The  body  of  an  elderly 
French  peasant  lay  in  the  muck,  horribly  muti- 
lated. Thorpe  hurried  Lucy  on  to  the  house. 
The  doors  were  open  and  all  the  lower  rooms 
had  been  ransacked.  Thorpe  asked  Lucy  to 
close  the  doors  while  he  looked  upstairs. 


Flight  383 

What  he  saw  filled  him  with  horror.  Quietly 
going  downstairs,  he  told  Lucy  that  the  house 
was  too  defiled  to  be  habitable. 

But  the  rain  had  now  set  in  more  heavily. 
They  took  refuge  in  a  root-shed  where  the  pU- 
laging  Germans  had  left  a  few  scattered  vege- 
tables. After  a  supper  of  raw  carrots,  Thorpe 
got  together  enough  dry  straw  and  sacking  to 
make  Lucy  a  warm  bed.  He  burrowed  into  a 
straw  stack  near  the  shed.  Despite  the  raw, 
dank  cold  of  the  all-night  rain,  both  were  so 
wearied  that  they  slept  until  dawn. 

While  they  were  breakfasting  on  three  or  four 
stray  potatoes  roasted  in  the  fire  that  Thorpe 
had  built  to  warm  their  chilled,  cramped  limbs, 
Lucy  suddenly  noticed  that  his  mustache  was 
gone.  Wetted  in  the  rain  the  evening  before, 
it  had  rubbed  off  during  the  night.  Thorpe 
found  it  crumpled  up  in  his  straw-stack  burrow. 
He  had  lain  upon  it  during  the  night.  Even 
Lucy's  deft  fingers  were  unable  to  get  it  into 
shape  again  or  to  make  it  stick  on  his  lip. 

"  Oh,  dear!  "  she  sighed.  "  It  was  such  a 
perfect  disguise.  It  made  everyone  smile." 

"  Throw  it  away.  It's  hopeless,"  replied 
Thorpe.  "  Maybe  the  sun  will  smile.  The 
clouds  seem  to  be  breaking." 

He  filled  the  shell  basket  with  such  of  the 
remaining  vegetables  as  were  eatable.  An  hour 
later  the  rain  had  ceased.  Watery  sun-rays 
began  to  straggle '  through  the  gray  clouds. 
Thorpe  and  Lucy  plodded  westward  across  the 
muddy  stubble  fields,  away  from  the  ill-omened 
house  of  death. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 
VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 

A  mile  along  a  rutted  country  road  brought 
the  fugitives  within  sound  of  firing.  They  came 
up  a  wooded  slope,  and  suddenly  found  them- 
selves in  the  midst  of  a  troop  of  uhlans,  who 
were  riding  out  from  a  small  village,  in  a 
circling  maneuver.  Without  his  false  mustache 
Thorpe  was  no  longer  taken  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

The  uhlan  captain  read  Kurt's  note,  and 
abruptly  began  to  ask  searching  questions  of 
Lucy.  She  of  course  could  neither  understand 
nor  answer  his  guttural  German  talk.  Thorpe 
attempted  a  voluble  explanation  that  "  his  wife  " 
was  American,  that  they  had  been  married  at 
New  York  in  June,  when  he  had  brought  her 
to  his  home  in  Berlin.  She  had  not  yet  had 
time  to  learn  German,  but,  being  a  good  nurse, 
had  insisted  upon  joining  him  in  hospital  work. 

The  officer  frowned  dubiously,  and  ordered  two 
of  his  men  to  take  the  couple  into  the  village 
for  investigation. 

The  British  had  recently  been  driven  back 
out  of  the  village  by  German  engineer  troops, 
the  work  of  whose  saw-edged  bayonets  was  all 
too  evident  on  the  corpses  of  village  folk  and 

384 


Valley  of  the  Shadow  385 

British  soldiers  scattered  along  the  muddy  gut- 
ters. Twenty  or  thirty  more  of  the  unfortunate 
inhabitants  —  women,  old  men  and  children  — 
stood  herded  together  at  the  west  end  of  the 
village,  where  the  Germans  were  preparing  to 
advance  against  their  entrenched  enemy. 

When  the  two  uhlans  came  up  with  the  mud- 
died, bedraggled  Thorpe  and  Lucy,  the  major 
in  command  cut  short  Thorpe's  plausible  explan- 
ations with  harsh  severity. 

"  That  placard,"  he  demanded. 

A  slim-waisted  lieutenant,  who  had  been  ogling 
Lucy,  handed  over  a  copy  of  the  poster  that  the 
fugitives  had  seen  at  the  guardhouse  in  Lille. 
As  the  major  compared  the  descriptions  with 
the  features  of  the  prisoners  his  stern  face 
became  terrible. 

"  There  is  no  doubt,"  he  stated.  "  They  are 
the  spies.  A  little  more,  and  they  would  have 
slipped  through  our  lines  to  the  enemy." 

At  once  a  number  of  ferociously  eager  soldiers 
pressed  around,  with  their  saw-edged  bayonets 
ready  for  action.  Thorpe  drew  Lucy  aside 
towards  the  officers  and  waved  at  them  Kurt's 
note. 

"It  is  a  mistake.  We  are  not  spies,"  he 
denied  with  desperate  earnestness.  "  Read  this, 
Herr  Major  —  from  Captain  von  Kissel.  We 
are  not  spies,  but  Americans  who  helped  save 
your  wounded  in  the  Marne  campaign." 

The  major  read  Kurt's  note  and  flung  it 
down  into  the  mud. 

"  A  palpable  forgery,"  he  denounced.  "  There 
are  no  Prussian  Guards  at  Lille. —  Be  silent, 


386  The  Blond  Beast 

schweinhund!  You  have  confessed  to  "being 
Americans.  That  is  enough,  with  the  girl  in 
disguise." 

He  turned  to  the  lieutenant  who  had  ogled 
Lucy. 

"  To  bother  longer  with  such  vermin,  when 
we  are  about  to  attack,  is  foolishness.  A  squad 
and  the  nearest  wall." 

The  lieutenant  smiled  gloatingly.  "  The  girl 
is  pretty,  Major.  Give  me  permission  first  to 
enjoy  her." 

Lucy  did  not  understand  the  words,  but  the 
look  that  the  young  officer  fixed  upon  her  was 
unmistakable.  She  pressed  close  to  Thorpe. 

"  Lan,  dear  Lan,"  she  whispered,  "  as  you 
love  me,  kill  me  —  quick !  ' ' 

"  Yes,"  he  assured  her,  his  jaw  tightening. 

He  stood  ready,  his  hands  on  her  quivering 
shoulders.  He  knew  he  could  save  her.  A 
sudden  clutch  of  her  dainty  head,  a  twist  of  her 
slender  neck  —  and  she  would  be  beyond  reach 
of  the  blond  beast.  He  waited  only  for  the 
answer  to  the  lieutenant's  request. 

The  major  had  turned  to  look  off  over  the 
woods  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  uhlans.  A 
rocket  flared  red  against  the  gray  sky. 

"  Donnerwetter!  "  he  cursed.  "  Already  the 
signal,  and  we  have  yet  to  start.  Put  the  spies 
in  the  herd  with  the  other  schweine.  They  shall 
serve  us  and  be  killed  by  their  verdammt  friends. 
—  Vorwdrts!  " 

Thorpe  swung  Lucy  around  and  hurried  her 
into  the  midst  of  the  cowering  French  peasants. 
Swiftly  as  he  moved,  he  received  a  thrust  in 


Valley  of  the  Shadow  387 

the  thigh  from  one  of  the  prodding  saw-edged 
bayonets.  A  jerk  of  his  forearm  barely  suc- 
ceeded in  knocking  up  another  bayonet  that 
lunged  at  Lucy's  face.  Fortunately  she  did  not 
understand  the  vile  jeers  of  the  soldiers. 

Once  among  their  fellow  victims,  Thorpe 
pushed  forward  into  the  lead.  Behind  him  burst 
out  screams  of  pain  and  terror  as  the  soldiers 
prodded  with  their  bayonets  or  struck  with  their 
rifle  butts  those  of  the  peasants  who  did  not 
start  off  quickly  enough.  Forgetful  of  her  own 
terror,  Lucy  wrenched  about  in  Thorpe's  grasp 
to  cry  out  in  denunciation  of  the  brutality. 
Thorpe  clapped  his  hand  over  her  mouth  and 
dragged  her  on  with  him.  In  his  single  back- 
ward glance  he  had  seen  a  very  old  man  fall 
under  the  blow  of  a  rifle  butt  and  a  young  baby 
tossed  up  to  be  caught  on  three  or  four  bayonet 
points. 

The  huddled  drove  of  victims  hurried  out  of 
the  village  and  westward  down  the  road  before 
their  cruel  goaders.  The  pitiful  maskers  of 
the  advance  soon  came  to  clumps  of  bullet-clipped 
coppices,  from  which  German  pickets  were  firing 
towards  their  enemy.  A  turn  of  the  road  brought 
the  party  into  view  of  the  British  trenches,  only 
a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away. 

Thorpe  heard  the  ping  and  zipp  of  rifle  bul- 
lets. He  forced  Lucy  around  behind  him.  A 
young  woman  next  to  them  gave  a  little  gurgling 
gasp  and  pitched  face  down  in  the  muddy  road. 
Suddenly  the  shots  ceased.  The  British  evidently 
could  see  only  the  civilians  at  the  head  of  the 
advancing  party.  The  Germans  ceased  to  tor- 


388  The  Blond  Beast 

ture  their  victims,  but  pressed  up  close  behind 
them,  stooping  low  to  hide  behind  the  living 
screen  and  dragging  along  in  their  van  a  pair 
of  machine-guns.  The  peasants  continued  to 
surge  forward,  impelled  by  the  ferocious  threats 
of  the  soldiers. 

Lucy  and  Thorpe,  still  among  the  foremost 
of  the  terror-stricken  flock,  saw  the  distance  to 
the  British  trenches  rapidly  narrow.  They  came 
within  a  hundred  yards  —  and  still  the  British 
did  not  perceive  how  they  were  being  duped. 
Thorpe  caught  sight  of  a  machine-gun  at  the  log 
barrier  that  had  been  thrown  across  the  road. 

Into  his  super-tense  mind  flashed  a  frightfully 
clear  perception  of  the  situation.  The  British 
might  refrain  from  firing  upon  the  civilians,  but 
the  Germans  were  only  waiting  to  get  as  near 
as  possible  to  the  trenches.  The  moment  they 
were  discovered  they  would  open  fire  with  their 
machine-guns  through  the  thick  of  their  living 
ambush  screen.  Meantime,  every  foot  of  advance 
was  giving  them  so  much  the  more  advantage 
for  their  surprise  charge.  ..The  victims  were 
already  doomed.  Then  why  should  they  not  die 
in  time  to  save  their  friends? 

Thorpe  drew  in  a  deep  breath,  and  shouted 
at  the  top  of  his  lungs:  "  Germans!  Germans! 
—  Firel  " 

Over  his  shoulder  he  cried  to  the  peasants: 
"  A  las!  a  bas!  " 

He  flung  himself  down  with  Lucy,  shielding 
her  with  his  body  as  best  he  could.  Some  of 
the  peasants  dropped  to  the  ground  behind  them. 
Most  of  the  others  were  struck  down  by  the  first 


Valley  of  the  Shadow  389 

volley  of  the  enraged  Germans.  The  foremost 
soldiers  yelled  with  insensate  rage  and  sprang 
forward  to  bayonet  the  wounded.  At  the  same 
instant  a  storm  of  British  machine-gun  and  rifle 
fire  struck  the  head  of  the  German  column.  The 
shooting  was  concentrated  and  deadly  accurate. 
Every  man  at  the  head  of  the  attackers  was 
hit,  and  the  densly  massed  ranks  behind  were 
drilled  through  and  through  before  the  survivors 
could  deploy  and  charge. 

Thorpe  rolled  over  to  place  himself  between 
the  British  fire  and  Lucy.  A  slight  dip  of  the 
machine-gun  barrel  would  have  riddled  him  with 
its  hail  of  bullets.  All  the  gunners  of  the  Ger- 
man maxims  must  have  been  struck  by  the  first 
burst  of  shots.  Several  moments  passed  before 
two  or  three  wounded  men  crawled  up  behind 
the  shield  of  the  rearmost  gun  and  put  it  into 
action.  But  now  their  own  infantry  were  charg- 
ing forward  between  them  and  the  trenches. 
Their  maxim  could  fire  only  through  the  gaps. 

By  twisting  his  head  around,  Thorpe  could  see 
the  furious  charge  of  the  Germans.  Their  rush 
had  already  carried  them  half  way  to  the 
trenches.  But  their  line  was  ragged  and  broken. 
All  along  it  men  were  pitching  down,  dead  or 
wounded. 

Above  the  crackling,  rattling  roar  of  machine- 
gun  and  rifle  fire  shrilled  a  strange  blare  of 
piping.  Up  out  of  the  shallow  trenches  leaped 
kilted  figures,  that  instantly  formed  in  a  wide- 
spaced  line  and  bounded  forward,  with  a  battle- 
shout  that  has  re-echoed  down  the  ages  from 
clashing  clans  in  the  glens  of  the  Scottish 


390  The  Blond  Beast 

Highlands.     On  —  on  —  came   the  kilted   wave. 

The  foremost  Germans  went  down  like  nine- 
pins before  the  shock  of  the  counter  assailants. 
Others,  too  close  to  flee,  dropped  their  rifles  and 
flung-  up  their  hands,  with  loud  shrieks  of 
"  Kamerad!  Kamerad!  "  The  rest  doubled 
about  and  came  flying  to  rearward,  hotly  pursued 
by  the  fierce-shouting,  rawboned  "  ladies  of  hell." 

The  German  machine  gunners  drove  a  mur- 
derous fire  through  the  scattered  flight  of  their 
own  comrades,  in  a  desperate  attempt  to  stop 
the  charge  of  the  Scots.  They  might  as  well 
have  tossed  handfuls  of  gravel.  Several  High- 
landers went  down.  But  a  score  or  more  rushed 
at  the  machine-guns  from  three  directions. 

Close  before  Thorpe  a  whooping  young  subal- 
tern, two  jumps  ahead  of  his  men,  staggered, 
spun  half  around,  and  fell.  He  struggled  up 
on  his  elbow,  to  urge  his  men  forward.  There 
was  no  need.  As  Thorpe  ran  to  aid  him,  the 
skirted  fighters  closed  in  on  the  machine  gunners. 
The  rattle-clatter  of  the  maxim  abruptly  ceased. 

"On!  on!  "  shouted  the  wounded  lieutenant. 
"  Chevy  'em!  Beat  the  coppices!  " 

"Uhlans  —  your  flank!"  warned  Thorpe. 
"  Uhlans  —  cavalry!  Your  left  flank  or  rear!  " 

The  boyish  subaltern  stared  hard  at  him, 
glanced  to  the  left,  and  jerked  out  his  whistle. 
Its  shrill  note  stopped  the  wild  Highlanders  at 
the  very  height  of  their  furious  charge.  The 
few  who  might  have  hesitated  about  giving  over 
the  pursuit,  swerved  and  sprinted  to  the  rally- 
ing point  at  sight  of  the  on-coming  uhlans. 

Thorpe  was  assisting  the  wounded  officer  to 


Valley  of  the  Shadow  391 

his  feet.  The  young  aristocrat  was  as  cool 
as  ice. 

"  Form  square,"  he  commanded.  "  Man  the 
maxims.  Fire." 

The  uhlans  had  burst  out  through  a  wood  not 
over  three  hundred  yards  away.  There  was  no 
time  for  the  Highlanders  to  form  a  square. 
But  the  nearest  ones  massed  along  the  roadside 
in  triple  ranks,  from  beyond  the  machine-guns 
to  a  point  on  the  left  of  the  officer.  They  began 
to  shoot,  firing  at  will  but  with  the  cool  aim  of 
veterans.  Manned  by  Scotch  gunners,  both  Ger- 
man maxims  burst  into  a  clattering  roar.  The 
Highlanders  who  had  been  farthest  out  on  the 
left  flank  veered  clear  of  the  line  of  fire  as  they 
rushed  to  the  ends  of  the  defensive  formation. 
Those  from  the  right  wing  came  panting,  to 
dash  across  the  road  over  the  bodies  of  the  dead 
and  wounded  peasants. 

The  number  of  empty  saddles  in  the  van  of 
the  charging  uhlans  rapidly  increased.  But  to 
stop  the  massed  rush  of  a  body  of  cavalry  in 
full  gallop  is  no  easy  matter.  The  uhlans  had 
already  covered  half  the  distance  —  heads  down, 
lances  leveled,  horses  skimming  over  the  ground 
at  racing  speed.  Thorpe's  heart  leaped  into  his 
throat.  The  sheer  velocity  and  mass  of  so  much 
on-hurtling  horse-flesh  must  surely  smash  through 
and  over  the  footmen.  Lucy  would  be  trampled 
under  those  pounding  hoofs. 

He  released  his  supporting  arm  from  the 
subaltern  and  bent  sideways  to  dart  back  to 
where  he  had  left  Lucy  lying... She  was  not 
there.  His  anxious  glance  swept  the  road  in 


392  The  Blond  Beast 

all  directions.  When  it  came  around  to  the 
opposite  side,  it  was  fixed  and  riveted  upon  a 
black  and  white  figure  crouched  under  the  far 
elbow  of  the  young  officer. 

Unheeded  by  either  Thorpe  or  the  wounded 
man,  in  the  tense  excitement  of  the  uhlan  charge, 
Lucy  had  helped  herself  to  the  subaltern's  first- 
aid  kit  and  was  calmly  bandaging  the  wound 
above  his  bare  knee.  Utterly  unconscious  of 
her  presence,  he  was  balancing  himself  on  his 
sound  leg  with  the  pressure  of  his  left  hand 
on  her  downbent  head. 

Thorpe's  half  assured  glance  flicked  forward 
over  the  down-bent  heads  of  the  Highlanders. 
Through  the  haze  of  the  blazing  Scotch  rifles 
the  uhlans  loomed  alarmingly  near.  Yet  in  the 
brief  moments  since  Thorpe's  last  look  a  great 
change  had  taken  place  among  the  furious 
chargers.  The  machine  gunners  had  lowered 
their  aim.  Horses,  struck  in  the  head  or  chest 
by  the  hail  of  bullets,  were  crashing  down  with 
their  riders.  Those  behind  stumbled  and  plunged 
headlong  over  the  bodies,  or,  leaping  clear,  were 
struck  down  in  turn  by  the  terrible  rifle  fire, 
There  was  no  shock.  At  thirty  yards  the  swirl 
of  surviving  horses  and  riders  burst  apart 
and  fled  into  the  thickets. 

"  After  them,  lads!  After  them!"  shouted 
the  subaltern.  "  Beat  the  coppices!  On  to  the 
village !  ' ' 

He  made  an  impetuous  leap  to  put  himself 
in  the  lead  of  his  men.  His  wounded  leg  doubled 
under  him.  He  came  down  with  stunning  vio- 
lence. The  hot-blooded  men  were  already  charg- 


Valley  of  the  Shadow 

ing  after  the  enemy.  Thorpe  sprang  to  lift  the 
officer  to  a  sitting  position.  Lucy  hastened  to 
complete  her  bandaging.  The  boy  stared  at  her 
and  raised  a  bruised  hand  to  his  bare  head. 

11  I  —  er  —  beg  your  pardon,  miss,"  he  daz- 
edly murmured.  "  You  do  not  appear  at  all 
German,  you  know." 

"  Hardly,"  said  Lucy.  "I'm  straight  Yan- 
kee. So  is  Mr.  Thorpe.  We  were  working  for 
the  Belgian  Belief.  The  Germans  accused  us 
of  being  spies." 

* '  Ah  —  really  now !  The  beggars  are  getting 
a  bit  too  thick.  What?  Put  you  in  front  with 
these  unlucky  peasants.  They  don't  play  the 
game. ' ' 

"  It  was  Mr.  Thorpe  who  called  out  to  warn 
your  soldiers,"  remarked  Lucy  as  she  pinned 
the  bandage. 

' '  Indeed !  —  Jolly  good  of  you,  Thorpe.  Per- 
mit me  —  I'm  Malcolm  Stuart,  second  son  of 
Lord  Scarpe  of  Dunness,  you  know.  If  I  may 
have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  your  country- 
woman. . . " 

Such  a  clinging  to  convention  in  the  midst  of 
death  and  suffering  struck  Thorpe  as  grotesque. 
He  had  to  raise  his  voice  to  be  heard  above 
the  crackling  of  rifle  shots  in  the  coppices  and 
the  groans  of  the  wounded  peasants.  Lieutenant 
the  Honorable  Malcolm  Stuart  flushed  and 
beamed  over  the  introduction. 

"Ah  —  Miss  Carew  —  charmed  to  meet  you. 
Most  kind  of  you  to  tie  up  my  scratch.  But 
these  poor  wights  —  must  do  what  we  can  for 
them. —  Here  come  what  remain  of  our  B.  A. 


394  The  Blond  Beast 

M.  C.  They  will  help  you  with  the  civilians. 
I  can  make  out  to  hobble  on  ahead,  with  one 
of  those  long  Hun  rifles  for  crutch.  Pardon 
me  for  hastening  off.  I'm  C.  0.,  you  know. 
Can't  leave  my  lads.  They'd  be  ganging  on  to 
Berlin.  What?... Ah,  I  say,  most  kind  of  you, 
old  chap.  This  will  be  topping." 

With  white,  pain-racked  face,  but  dauntless 
eye,  the  young  aristocrat  took  the  German  rifle 
from  which  Thorpe  had  detached  the  barbarous 
saw-edged  bayonet,  and  staggered  away  up  the 
corpse-littered  road  towards  the  village. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 
THE    BATTLE    OF    BATTLES 

All  the  remainder  of  the  day  Thorpe  and  Lucy 
labored  in  company  with  the  one  Scotch  surgeon 
and  his  scant  handful  of  trained  ambulance 
assistants  in  caring  for  the  wounded.  The 
bayonet  stab  in  Thorpe's  thigh,  though  painful, 
was  not  disabling. 

So  far  as  the  Americans  could  see,  their  fellow- 
workers  made  absolutely  no  distinction  in  their 
treatment  of  Highlanders  and  Germans.  Only 
the  peasant  children  received  special  attention. 
Those  of  the  women  and  older  children  who  had 
escaped  injury  gave  all  the  aid  they  could  to 
the  Red  Cross  workers.  A  small  villa,  half  a 
mile  to  the  west,  was  turned  into  a  hospital. 

During  the  afternoon  an  English  regiment  of 
Territorials  came  to  relieve  the  Highlanders,  who 
were  being  attacked  in  the  village  by  a  full  regi- 
ment of  German  reinforcements.  Much  to  the 
discontent  of  the  Scots,  they  were  ordered  to  the 
rear  for  re-formation. 

When  commanded  to  report  to  hospital,  and 
not  a  moment  before,  Lieutenant  the  Honorable 
Malcolm  Stuart  collapsed.  He  plaintively  voiced 
his  grievances  to  Lucy  as  she  re-dressed  his 
wound  — 

395 


396  The  Blond  Beast 


< ; 


Eotten  luck,  Miss  Carew.  All  those  bally 
Territorials  nosing  in.  Why  couldn't  they  have 
dug  up  their  own  Huns?  Not  very  sporting  of 
them  to  push  in  on  our  particular  game.  What? 
. . .  And  to  order  me  off  the  firing  line  —  mere 
scratch  like  this.  Game  leg  for  hurdling,  I  dare 
say,  but  jolly  good  enough  for  a  king  while  hold- 
ing a  position  where  one  has  only  to  limp 
around." 

In  the  side  room  Thorpe  was  acting  as  assist- 
ant to  the  busily  operating  surgeon.  He  spoke 
of  the  subaltern's  gallantry.  The  dour  Scotch- 
man squeezed  out  a  half  smile. 

"  A  bonny  lad,  is  he  not?%  Wi'  us  a  fortnight, 
no  more.  His  brother,  the  heir,  at  home  dying. 
Shrapnel  wound  at  Soissons  —  Led  his  company 
at  Mons.  Alas,  'twas  a  dolorous  fight  thot.  We 
started  in  wi'  a  regiment  of  eleven  hun'red  braw 
lads.  A  scant  three  hun'red  crossed  the  Marne. 
Ever  facing  us  two,  three,  ofttimes  five  Germans 
to  our  one,  wi'  more  seeking  to  come  'round  by 
the  flank.  A  bitter  drubbing  they  gie  us." 

"  Had  you  mustered  one  man  against  two, 
you'd  never  have  had  need  to  give  back  an 
inch,"  said  Thorpe. 

"I'm  no  disagreeing  to  thot,  sir.  We  came 
back  from  across  the  Marne,  and  we  ha'  come 
back  here.  Tester  noon  the  Huns  fell  upon  us 
in  force  —  routed  us  out  of  the  village.  By  the 
time  they  drove  us  through  the  first  bosks,  yon 
lad  was  our  sole  commissioned  officer  left.  He 
led  counter-charges  till  the  Huns  quit  cold.  Then 
he  laid  out  trenches,  and  we  dug  in.  Fairly  has 
he  won  his  Victoria  Cross,  and  him  not  a  day 


The  Battle  of  Battles  397 

turned  eighteen.  God  be  thankit,  the  bullet  in 
his  leg  missed  both  tendon  and  thigh  bone!  " 

Within  two  days  the  clean  flesh  of  the  boy's 
wound,  frequently  sterilized  by  Lucy,  was  well 
started  on  its  healing.  An  order  came,  shifting 
the  rested  and  re-officered  Highlanders  north  to 
the  neighborhood  of  Ypres.  Lieutenant  the  Hon- 
orable Malcolm  Stuart  insisted  upon  following 
them.  He  rode  in  the  ambulance  with  Lucy, 
Thorpe  and  the  surgeon. 

The  new  C.  0.  had  ordered  Lucy  to  the  rear. 
Regulations  absolutely  forbade  the  presence  of 
women  at  the  Front  in  any  capacity.  Lucy  had 
bowed  submissively  and  smiled  and  requested 
permission  to  ride  to  the  railway.  At  Armen- 
tieres  she  and  Thorpe  took  leave  of  their  regret- 
ful friends,  the  surgeon  and  young  Stuart,  each 
of  whom  gave  them  letters  highly  praising  their 
services. 

They  rode  by  rail  to  Calais  as  helpers  on  a 
train  of  wounded.  During  the  short  trip  Lucy 
found  time  for  a  word  apart  with  Thorpe. 

"  You  think  I'm  going  home,  don't  you?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Why,  of  course,  Loo.  No  sane  girl  would 
stay  a  day  longer  than  she  could  help  within  a 
thousand  miles  of  this  war-hell." 

Lucy  looked  at  him  with  her  cool  steady  gaze. 

"  How  about  you?  " 

"  Well,  that's  different.  I'm  a  man,  you  see.  — 
Good  Lord,  Loo,  can't  you  understand?  Of 
course  I'm  going  to  see  you  safe  aboard  ship 
for  God's  country.  Then  I've  got  to  come  back 
and  help.  Our  country  is  a  neutral  —  we  are 


398  The  Blond  Beast 

neutrals.  But  the  Red  Cross  —  I've  a  right  to 
serve  as  stretcher-bearer  or  ambulance  man." 

"  Not  a  particle  more  than  I  have,"  asserted 
Lucy. 

Thorpe  sought  to  humor  her.  "  Of  course  — 
of  course.  But  remember  what  the  C.  0.  said 
about  regulations  against  women." 

"  Yes.  I  heard.  What  the  regulations  mean 
is  ineffectual  females.  I  can  run  a  car  as  well 
as  you,  and  I'm  better  on  first-aid.  —  Well  cable 
for  funds  from  Calais." 

"  But,  Loo,  you  can't  mean —  " 

11  Don't  be  silly,  Lan.  After  what  I  have 
seen,  you  know  it  is  as  impossible  for  me  to 
leave  as  for  you,  so  long  as  brave  men  are  suf- 
fering and  dying  to  save  the  world  from  those 
cruel  beasts." 

Thorpe  winced.     "  Yes — yes. .  .Yet  Kurt?  " 

The  girl's  flashing  eyes  clouded  and  dulled. 

"  You  know  I  have  given  him  my  promise.  If 
he  comes  to  me  with  his  own  hands  still  clean, 
and  renounces  those  who  are  responsible  for  that 
frightfulness  —  if  he  becomes  a  true  American 
citizen. .  .But  I  would  kill  myself  sooner  than 
be  the  wife  of  one  who  justifies  the  master 
murderers." 

"  Poor  Kurt,"  muttered  Thorpe.  "  I  believe 
he  was  beginning  to  see  the  truth.  We  must  not 
forget  he  has  been  reared  from  babyhood  to 
worship  the  Kaiser." 

Lucy  shuddered. 

"I  have  never  forgotten  the  face  of  that  — 
that  Attila  as  he  rode  past  along  Unter  den 
Linden... And  then  Von  Pappheim!  Like  mas- 


The  Battle  of  Battles  399 

ter,  like  man ! . . .  Yet  you  could  think  I  'd  go  home, 
when  the  wonderful  French,  the  crushed  Belgians, 
and  our  own  blood  cousins,  the  British,  are  bat- 
tling so  desperately  to  wall  up  and  force  back 
this  terrible  wave  of  medieval  barbarism!  " 

Thorpe  no  longer  even  wished  to  remonstrate. 

"  We'll  cable  from  Calais  for  funds,"  he 
repeated  her  decision  with  grave  approval. 

Less  than  a  week  later  they  were  on  the  Ypres 
front  with  an  ambulance,  three  American  stu- 
dents from  Oxford,  a  young  American  doctor, 
and  two  trained  nurses  from  London.  All  the 
equipment  and  the  maintenance  was  at  Lucy's 
own  expense. 

Neither  permission  nor  aid  was  asked  of  the 
British  military  authorities.  The  little  ambu- 
lance unit  simply  appeared  at  the  front  and  set 
to  work.  •  The  Americans  —  women  as  well  as 
men  —  were  received  without  question,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  even  gratefully,  in  so  far  as 
surgeons  and  helpers,  toiling  night  and  day  until 
they  dropped,  were  capable  of  realizing  grati- 
tude. But  the  wounded  Tommies,  torn  and 
mangled  by  bullets  and  shell  fire  and  bayonets, 
blessed  the  Yankees  for  carrying  them  off  the 
battle  field,  and  blessed  them  twice  for  their 
prodigal  gifts  of  good  cigarettes. 

The  unwounded  soldiers  and  their  anxious 
commanders  had  no  thought  for  anything  else 
than  the  deadly  need  to  cling  fast  against  the 
tremendous  blows  that  sought  to  hurl  them  back 
across  the  few  remaining  miles  to  the  French 
coast.  The  whole  Ypres  front  was  a  raw  wound 
of  humanity  in  a  volcano  of  German  shell  fire  — 


400  The  Blond  Beast 

a  hell-pit  lined  with  heroes  who,  with  few  bat- 
teries and  scant  ammunition,  indomitably  held  on 
and  on  against  the  bombardment  of  the  heavy 
German  howitzers  and  against  the  gray  flood  of 
Teutons,  who  often  outnumbered  them  five  to 
one. 

For  twenty  terrific  days  of  blood  and  steel  and 
fire,  the  little  British  army  faced  the  impact  of 
the  gigantic  German  war-machine.  Against  the 
enormous  numbers  of  light  and  heavy  artillery, 
against  the  overwhelming  masses  of  enemy  infan- 
try, the  British  had  little  else  to  oppose  than 
rifle  fire,  bayonets,  flesh,  and  the  bulldog  game- 
ness  of  their  race.  The  mixed  Anglo-Saxon-Celts, 
bred  to  peace  and  democracy,  stood  up  to  the 
vastly  greater  numbers  of  the  much-vaunted, 
better-armed,  war-trained  Teutonic  Supermen — • 
stopped  their  mighty  rush,  fought  them  to  a 
stand,  out-gamed  them,  hurled  them  back  until, 
as  at  the  Aisne,  they  took  refuge  in  their  trenches. 

Such  was  the  first  battle  of  Ypres,  one  of  the 
most  terrible,  one  of  the  most  desperate,  of  all 
battles  in  history.  Of  the  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  British  troops  engaged,  fifty  thousand 
fell.  But  the  loss  was  not  all  on  one  side.  As 
during  the  great  rush  in  France,  solid  masses 
of  the  half  million  attackers  were  flung  forward 
openly,  to  be  slaughtered  by  rifle  and  machine- 
gun  fire.  In  the  schemes  of  the  cold-blooded 
Teutonic  battle-thinkers,  any  expenditure  of  their 
abundant  cannon-fodder  was  a  cheap  price  to 
pay,  if  only  they  could  smash  through  the  British 
line  and  sweep  on  to  the  Channel  coast  from 
Dunkirk  and  Calais  down  to  Dieppe. 


The  Battle  of  Battles  401 

Against  these  immense  odds,  the  "contemptible 
little  British  army"  held  fast  —  held  on  to  the 
death,  like  the  heroic  remnant  of  the  shattered 
Belgian  forces,  until  Foch,  the  victor  of  Fere 
Champenoise,  rushed  up  his  no  less  gallant  French 
poilus  to  complete  the  repulse  of  the  Huns. 

Throughout  that  frightful  battle-hurricane 
Lucy  carried  on  her  full  share  of  the  party's 
self-chosen  task.  Like  each  and  all  of  them,  she 
ate  when  she  could  and  worked  night  and  day 
until  forced  to  sleep  by  exhaustion.  She  wore  a 
khaki  hunting  suit,  soldier's  overcoat,  and  leather 
or  rubber  boots  according  to  the  ground  and 
weather.  For  the  most  part,  she  drove  the  ambu- 
lance —  no  easy  undertaking  when  on  shell-pitted 
ground  under  German  bombardment,  or,  with- 
out lights,  skidding  down  a  miry,  cramped, 
shelled  road  on  a  black  night,  past  advancing 
troops,  artillery,  and  munition  lorries. 

To  Thorpe  and  his  student  helpers  it  was  a 
matter  of  endless  wonderment,  a  new  revelation 
of  womanhood,  to  see  her  drive  up  to  the  lines 
and  jump  from  her  seat  to  help  load  the  wounded 
they  brought  to  the  ambulance  on  their  stretchers. 
Her  concern  was  always  for  the  injured  men. 
One  of  the  students  who  never  stickled  over  the 
most  dangerous  work,  kept  cotton  in  his  ears 
and  trembled  at  every  close  hit  of  a  "  Jack 
Johnson."  Like  him,  the  other  students  and 
Thorpe  ducked  automatically  whenever  a  shell 
screeched  overhead  with  its  horrid  tearing 
smashing  siren  crescendo. 

Lucy  never  ducked.  She  would  calmly  smooth 
the  pillow  under  the  head  of  a  ghastly  wounded 


402  The  Blond  Beast 

Tommy  and  tuck  in  the  blanket  with  precise  care- 
fulness while  a  big  shell  burst  near  enough  to 
fling  mud  over  the  ambulance.  She  paid  no  more 
heed  to  the  cottony  puffs  of  shrapnel  shells,  out 
of  which  descended  death  showers  of  metallic 
hail.  Once,  driving  back  from  the  trenches  to 
the  dressing  station  of  her  surgeon,  an  exploding 
shell,  only  a  few  yards  ahead,  splashed  a  three- 
inch  gun  and  its  double  team  of  horses.  She 
drove  the  ambulance  over  the  splinter-strewn, 
reddened  spot  without  a  tremor. 

Thorpe's  wonderment  increased  rather  than 
lessened  when  he  found  that  the  mature  women 
nurses  appeared  no  less  unconscious  of  any  per- 
sonal danger.  As  the  battle  line  shifted  forward 
and  back  with  the  fluctuations  of  attack  and 
counter-attack,  the  dressing  station  often  came 
within  range  of  the  German  shells.  On  one 
occasion,  small  shells  smashed  through  the  roof 
of  the  farmhouse  in  which  the  station  was  located. 
One  nurse  went  on  helping  the  doctor  dress  the 
wounds  of  a  fresh  batch  of  casualties,  while  the 
other  climbed  upon  the  tottery  roof  and  stretched 
tarpaulins  over  the  shell  holes  to  shut  out  a 
threatened  downpour  of  rain. 

Whether  owing  to  sheer  courage  or  to  self- 
forgetfulness  in  their  devotion  to  the  injured, 
these  members  of  the  supposedly  timid  weaker 
sex  toiled  like  the  men  for  hour  after  hour  and 
day  after  day,  amidst  surroundings  and  in  the 
face  of  conditions  that  might  well  have  appalled 
a  Joan  of  Arc  —  big  shells  and  small,  the  bitter 
fumes  of  burnt  powder,  the  sight  of  stricken 
men,  their  delirious  groans  and  shrieks,  their 


The  Battle  of  Battles  403 

patient  suffering  when  conscious,  their  dying, 
the  sickening  sweetish  odor  of  gangrene,  the 
reek  of  disinfectants,  the  dirt  and  mud,  the  cold 
and  wet,  the  lack  of  conveniences. 

Both  nurses  were  mature  women  and  trained 
by  severe  discipline.  But  to  explain  how  a  deli- 
cately nurtured  girl  like  Lucy  could  endure  what 
she  did,  and  continue  to  endure  it,  after  all  her 
nerve-shattering  experiences  in  France  and  in 
the  flight  from  Brussels  —  Thorpe  gave  up  the 
mystery  as  beyond  him.  No  less  a  mystery  was 
how  she  always  kept  her  hair  well  brushed  and 
contrived  to  appear  neat  even  when  splashed 
with  mud  or  smeared  with  oil  from  tinkering 
the  ambulance  motor. 

At  first  Thorpe  went  about  haunted  with  the 
cold  dread  that,  sooner  or  later,  her  dainty  grace- 
ful body  would  be  mashed  and  torn,  or  her  beau- 
tiful face  mangled  into  a  hideous  featureless 
mask.  But  in  time  her  cheerful  serenity  so 
reacted  upon  him  that  he  ceased  to  fear  over 
her  danger  of  death  and  even  over  her  danger 
of  mutilation. 

There  were  rare  happy  occasions  when  the 
station  happened  to  be  cleared  of  cases  by  the 
British  evacuating  ambulances,  and  perhaps  some 
one  found  time  and  energy  to  cook  a  hot  meal. 
Stale  old  American  jokes  would  be  cracked; 
one  of  the  students  would  spout  Keats  or  Tenny- 
son; another  would  pump  a  wheezy  accordian 
found  in  the  attic,  while  all  joined  in  the  jolly 
old  college  songs.  Once  Lucy  and  Thorpe  fell  to 
talking  of  that  far-away  almost  unbelievable  land 
of  "  Home,"  where  people  they  once  had  known 


404  The  Blond  Beast 

still  danced  and  went  to  theatres  and  receptions 
and  wondered  when  the  bothersome  squabble  in 
Europe  would  stop  interfering  with  tourist  trips 
to  the  interesting  historical  spots  "  abroad." 

"  Dr.  Blair  tells  me  the  home  papers  still 
poo-poo  all  accounts  of  the  Hun  frightfulness 
as  hysterical  exaggerations,  and  our  capitalists 
rejoice  that  America  is  capturing  the  world  mar- 
kets of  England  and  Germany,"  said  Lucy. 
"  Will  they  never  understand?  " 

Thorpe  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"They  do  not  realize'  that  the  British  fleet 
alone  stands  between  us  and  a  fate  more  terrible 
than  Belgium's.  They  do  not  realize  that  the 
Prussian  war-lords  look  upon  America  as  wolves 
eye  a  fat  sheep  in  a  pen.  Our  people  would  not 
give  up  their  arms.  They  would  seek  to  defend 
their  homes  —  and  they  would  be  slaughtered  by 
the  tens  of  thousands  as  franc-tireurs.  Even  the 
British,  close  as  they  are,  did  not  really  under- 
stand until  the  Zeppelins  began  dropping  bombs 
on  defenseless  women  and  children." 

Lucy  shuddered. 

"Bombs  —  and  torpedoes!  Word  has  just 
come  that  a  submarine  has  torpedoed  without 
warning  one  of  the  French  ships  that  was  taking 
refugees  across  the  Channel.  Those  Hun  leaders 
are  cold-blooded  monsters.  I  remember  what 
the  Crown  Prince  said.  '  First  France,  then 
Russia,  then  England.'  Now  I  know  we  shall  be 
next  —  if  the  British  front  breaks." 

"It  will  not  break  —  it  cannot!"  assured 
Thorpe. 

He  had  seen  the  thin  khaki  lines  hold,  time 


The  Battle  of  Battles  405 

after  time,  against  stupendous  odds . . .  But  the 
Teutonic  war-machine  was  yet  to  exert  the  full 
force  of  its  might  —  the  might  that  had  been 
accumulating  for  forty  years. 

A  division  of  the  Prussian  Guard  was  secretly 
brought  up  from  the  Arras  front.  On  November 
the  tenth  these  choicest  of  all  German  troops 
were  flung  into  the  death-tempest  to  stiffen  the 
many  corps  previously  massed  for  the  supreme 
assault. 

That  sector  of  the  front  before  the  American 
dressing  station  was  the  one  struck  by  the  Guard. 
But  the  great  billow  of  infantry  was  preceded 
by  a  blast  of  shell  fire  before  which  all  the  ter- 
rific previous  bombardments  were  insignificant. 
Out  close  behind  the  rear  British  trench,  a  shell 
struck  near  two  of  the  students  who  were  bear- 
ing a  casualty  to  the  ambulance.  One  was  killed, 
along  with  the  wounded  Tommy.  The  other  was 
badly  wounded. 

While  Thorpe  and  the  third  student  applied 
first-aid  inside  the  ambulance,  Lucy  coolly  drove 
to  the  rear  through  the  mad  chaos  of  bursting 
shrapnel  and  choking  smoke  and  the  teeth- 
rattling,  soul-shaking  detonations  of  the  siege- 
gun  shells.  Under  a  titanic  up-flare  of  mud  and 
flame  and  black  fumes,  before  the  ambulance 
would  appear  a  yawning  crater,  a  dozen  yards 
across. 

Twice  the  ambulance  all  but  toppled  over;  once 
a  gust  of  shrapnel  ripped  off  the  rear  corner 
of  the  top;  once  the  machine  had  to  be  dug  out 
of  a  small  crater.  Half  an  hour  was  spent  in 
the  zone  of  heaviest  fire  before  the  party  regained 


406  The  Blond  Beast 

the  vicinity  of  the  dressing  station.  The  ambu- 
lance came  to  an  abrupt  stop.  Thorpe  sprang 
out  to  help  re-start  it.  The  ground  around  was 
level,  and  the  motor  was  still  running.  Lucy 
pointed  ahead.  The  surroundings  were  unmis- 
takable. But  where  the  house  had  stood,  there 
was  now  only  a  shell  crater  — 

Lucy  drove  on  to  the  nearest  field  hospital. 
It  was  being  evacuated.  The  Prussian  Guard 
had  stormed  and  taken  the  first  trenches  and 
were  forcing  the  British  back  by  the  sheer  weight 
of  their  mass  charges.  The  Americans  were 
ordered  to  help  in  the  evacuation.  They  did  not 
get  back  to  the  fighting  lines  until  late  in  the 
day. 

At  mid-afternoon  the  mauled  and  shattered 
British,  badly  beaten  —  and  unaware  of  the  fact 
—  flung  themselves  against  the  victory-flushed 
Germans  as  Foch's  army  had  turned  on  the 
over-confident  victors  of  Fere  Champenoise. 
Only  here  the  Teuton  odds  were  far  greater,  and 
they  were  fully  backed  by  their  field  and  heavy 
artillery.  To  rout  them  was  impossible. 

Yet  the  scant  remnants  of  Britain's  small  pro- 
fessional army,  her  half-drilled  Territorials  and 
raw  volunteers,  again  jolted  the  invincible  war- 
machine  of  the  Metzschean  Supermen  to  a  stop. 
Not  content  with  this  miracle,  they  pried  back 
the  juggernaut,  yard  after  yard,  across  all  the 
fresh  ground  it  had  rolled  over  —  back  across 
all  the  captured  British  trenches  —  back  beyond 
its  own  front  trenches. 

Close  behind  the  reapers  in  the  harvest  field 
of  Death  followed  the  gleaners,  gathering  in  the 


The  Battle  of  Battles  407 

down-cut  cannon-fodder  while  the  hail  of  steel 
and  fire  still  blasted  man  and  beast  and  earth 
itself. 

When  Thorpe  came  upon  a  wounded  Prussian 
whose  helmet  bore  the  number  of  Kurt's  regi- 
ment, a  sharp  query  in  German  won  the  informa- 
tion that  Captain  von  Kissel  had  led  his  company 
into  the  battle.  Whether  he  had  been  wounded 
or  killed  the  Guard  could  not  say.  There  had 
been  no  time  to  look  at  officers  when  the  "  ladies 
of  hell  "  began  to  counter-charge. 

Thorpe  sent  back  Lucy  and  the  student  with 
the  loaded  ambulance.  He  himself  began  to  run 
about  through  the  powder-smoke  haze,  searching 
the  shell  pits  and  trenches. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
THE  GIVERS 

Past  the  scattering  of  rearward-bound  wounded 
Highlanders,  Thorpe  came  to  the  in-caved  flat- 
tened British  front  trench.  The  battle  was 
sweeping  forward  towards  the  German  trenches. 
From  a  big  shell  crater  just  beyond  him  Thorpe 
saw  a  wounded  Scotchman  crawl  out  and  stagger 
away  towards  the  fighting.  He  ran  to  look  into 
the  crater. 

The  first  he  saw  was  a  major  of  the  Prussian 
Guard,  stealthily  creeping  up  to  peer  after  the 
Highlander.  The  alertness  of  his  movements 
showed  that  he  was  unwounded.  Assured  that 
the  Highlander  was  leaving,  the  officer  turned  to 
glance  over  the  pit  rim  to  side  and  rear.  At 
sight  of  the  newcomer  he  cursed  and  threw  up 
his  hands.  Thorpe  found  himself  staring  into 
the  hate-distorted  face  of  Von  Pappheim. 

Two  or  three  more  steps  brought  him  to  the 
near  edge  of  the  crater.  Down  the  slopes  and 
in  the  bottom  lay  several  dead  Highlanders  and 
nearly  twice  as  many  Prussians.  A  Scotch  officer, 
with  bandages  about  his  head,  was  dressing  the 
body  wound  of  a  Guard  officer.  At  Von  Papp- 
heim Js  curse  he  had  glanced  up  and  around.  On 
his  shoulder  was  the  insignia  of  a  captain,  on 

408 


The  Givers  409 

his  breast  a  Victoria  Cross.  A  quick  smile  of 
recognition  lightened  his  grimy  blood-streaked 
boyish  face. 

"  Hi,  Thorpe.  Lend  a  hand,  will  you?  Bad 
case  here.  About  pegged  myself." 

"  Stuart!  "  exclaimed  Thorpe. 

He  hastened  down  into  the  crater,  his  gaze 
fixed  watchfully  upon  Von  Pappheim.  The  Prus- 
sian thrust  his  hands  higher,  as  if  afraid  that 
Thorpe  would  jerk  out  a  pistol  and  shoot. 
Thorpe's  only  weapon  was  his  first-aid  kit,  but 
evidently  Von  Pappheim  took  for  granted  that 
he  was  armed.  Thorpe  saw  that  his  enemy's 
scabbard  and  holster  were  empty.  Both  pistol 
and  sword  lay  a  little  way  down  the  slope  below 
Von  Pappheim. 

Almost  at  Thorpe's  feet  a  voice  wailed  with 
the  plaintive  intonation  of  a  frightened  little 
child:  "  Mutter!  —  Hebe  mutter!  " 

Thorpe  looked  down  into  the  vacant  dazed  blue 
eyes  of  the  man  who  had  been  his  heart's  friend. 

"  Kurt!  "  he  cried. 

He  dropped  down  beside  young  Stuart,  to  clasp 
one  of  the  groping  hands  and  gaze  close  into 
the  staring  eyes. 

"  I'm  here,  Kurt  —  Don't  you  know  me?  It's 
Allan." 

No  recognition  glowed  in  the  blue  eyes.  The 
pain-twisted  lips  moved  —  only  to  repeat  that 
childlike  wail:  "  Mutter!  mutter!  ' 

"  Friend  of  yours,  I  take  it,"  sympathetic- 
ally observed  Stuart.  "  Hard  lines!  Fine 
chap  —  nipping  keen  —  took  the  steel  squarely. 
The  tall  rotter  over  there  skulked  —  surren- 


410  The  Blond  Beast 

dered  just  as  soon  as  the  others  went  down." 

Thorpe  bent  over  to  complete  the  dressing  of 
Kurt's  wound.  The  young  Highland  officer, 
though  faint  and  dizzy  from  his  head  wound, 
insisted  upon  helping.  Neither  noticed  how  Von 
Pappheim  was  slowly  working  his  feet  down  the 
soft  earth  slope  on  his  side  of  the  crater. 

"  Beastly  mess,  all  this,"  sighed  the  boy. 
"  Seemed  sporting  at  first,  you  know,  but  one 
gets  awfully  fed  up  with  it.  Must  carry  on,  of 
course  —  all  that.  My  word,  though !  To  think 
of  a  real  chap  like  this  being  done  in,  and  all 
to  enable  the  Kaiser —  " 

The  report  of  a  pistol  rang  across  the  crater 
bottom.  Young  Stuart  swayed  and  crumpled 
down  across  Kurt's  knees.  Thorpe  stared  up 
into  Von  Pappheim 's  out-thrust  pistol  muzzle. 
Behind  it  the  hatchet  face  was  convulsed  with 
hate. 

"  Stand  and  salute,  scliweinhund!  "  came  the 
gloating  command. 

Thorpe  turned  over  on  his  hands  and  knees, 
half  rose  in  the  position  of  a  sprinter,  and 
bounded  straight  at  his  enemy.  The  down-sloped 
pistol  was  within  two  feet  of  his  head  when 
the  firing-pin  clicked  —  the  barrel  was  empty. 
Thorpe  was  already  plunging  for  a  low  tackle. 
Von  Pappheim  went  down  so  hard  that  the  pistol 
jerked  out  of  his  grasp.  Thorpe  kicked  it  aside 
and  stepped  back. 

11  Get  up,"  he  said. 

The  Prussian  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  raised 
his  hands  as  high  overhead  as  he  could  reach. 
Thorpe  was  cold  as  ice. 


The  Givers  411 

"You  —  beast,"  he  said.  "If  only  I  could 
kill  a  prisoner!  —  Hands  down.  I'm  unarmed. 
Defend  yourself." 

Von  Pappheim  jumped  back  towards  where  his 
sword  lay.  Thorpe  flashed  in,  straightened  the 
down-stooping  Prussian  with  a  brace  of  upper- 
cuts,  and  flung  the  sword  out  of  the  pit.  Forced 
to  fight  with  nature's  weapons,  the  noble  count 
came  at  Thorpe  with  crooked  fingers,  furiously 
seeking  to  scratch  and  gouge  and  choke  — 

Long  before  Thorpe  was  done  with  him,  the 
murderer  was  begging  for  mercy  and  shielding 
his  battered  face  with  his  arms.  In  the  end, 
he  flung  himself  down  between  two  of  the  dead 
soldiers  and  clung  fast  to  them,  moaning  and 
gasping.  Thorpe  stepped  over  beside  Kurt  and 
called  sharply: 

"  That's  all  I  can  do  now  —  worse  luck! 
Unfortunately  I'm  civilized,  not  kultured.  Come 
here  and  help  carry  Captain  von  Kissel.  Wake 
up  —  step  lively!  " 

The  beaten  count  staggered  to  his  feet  and 
tottered  over  to  take  the  legs  of  his  brother-in- 
law  under  his  arms  as  Thorpe  raised  the  fore- 
body.  Kurt  screamed  and  swooned.  Thorpe 
stiffened  Von  Pappheim 's  wobbly  knees  with  the 
threat  of  another  beating  if  he  should  fall  or 
release  his  hold  on  Kurt.  By  the  time  they  came 
to  the  second  of  the  former  British  lines  Von 
Pappheim 's  face  was  so  swollen  that  he  could 
not  see.  Thorpe  had  to  warn  him  where  to  step. 

Not  far  beyond  they  met  the  ambulance  return- 
ing to  the  front.  Von  Pappheim 's  tow  hair  was 
clotted  and  grimed,  his  mustache  as  shapeless 


412  The  Blond  Beast 

as  his  face.  Lucy  gazed  at  him  pityingly.  He 
was  unrecognizable. 

"  Poor  man,"  she  said  as  she  swung  down. 
"  Shrapnel,  of  course." 

* '  No  —  my  fists  —  that  beast  Von  Pappheim, ' ' 
jerked  out  Thorpe.  "  Here's  Kurt  —  dying." 

The  statement  was  true,  though  not  precisely 
in  the  sense  intended.  Kurt  was  still  alive  when 
they  brought  him  to  the  hospital.  The  over- 
worked surgeon,  at  Lucy's  urging,  gave  the 
wound  a  second  and  more  careful  examination, 
only  to  again  shake  his  head. 

"  Sorry,  Miss  Carew  —  hopeless.  To  operate 
would  be  immediately  fatal.  Give  an  opiate  if 
he  comes  out  of  the  coma." 

The  hospital  was  already  full  of  the  seriously 
wounded.  But  a  cot  was  jammed  into  a  corner 
for  Kurt.  The  student  found  a  new  crew  for 
the  ambulance.  Thorpe  remained  to  help  dress 
wounds.  He  could  not  force  himself  away  while 
his  friend  yet  lived.  Lucy  put  on  a  white  dress 
and  quietly  took  charge  of  Kurt  and  the  patients 
near.  The  other  nurses  noted  her  deft  assured 
movements,  and  welcomed  her  assistance  with- 
out question.  With  thousands  of  wounded  wait- 
ing even  for  first  aid,  this  was  no  time  to  quibble 
over  formalities. 

Kurt  lingered  while  others  with  far  less  fatal 
injuries  died  all  about  him.  His  youth,  clean 
flesh  and  unusual  vitality  brought  him  out  of 
the  coma.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  and  saw 
Lucy,  love  added  all  its  power  to  his  struggle  for 
life.  He  attempted  to  make  light  of  his  agony, 
rather  than  take  the  opiate  and  lose  his  con- 


The  Givers  413 

seiousness  of  Lucy's  presence  beside  his  cot. 
Yet  a  prescience  of  the  end  had  already  come 
to  him. 

The  merciful  opiate  carried  him  through  the 
night.  In  the  morning,  instead  of  passing  out 
without  wakening,  as  all  expected,  he  roused  to 
clear  consciousness  and  an  astonishing  rally  of 
strength.  To  his  dictation  Lucy  wrote  his  mother 
and  Elsa  farewell  letters  full  of  love  and  faith 
and  courage.  But  he  made  no  mention  of  the 
war  or  the  Fatherland  or  Majestdt. 

His  next  wish  was  so  to  will  his  newly  acquired 
fortune  that  it  would  be  divided  between  Lucy 
and  Thorpe,  after  his  mother  had  enjoyed  the 
income  for  life.  Lucy  gently  explained  that  she 
already  had  a  larger  fortune  than  was  good 
for  anyone  to  possess,  and  Thorpe  insisted  upon 
the  will  being  drawn  in  Elsa's  favor,  with  a 
provision  barring  control  by  Von  Pappheim. 

"  He's  a  prisoner  now,  you  know,"  added 
Thorpe.  "  That  makes  him  safe,  worse  luck! 
The  British  are  housing  their  captive  German 
officers  in  Alexandra  Palace.  Like  the  others, 
the  noble  Wolf  will  be  fed  on  lamb  and  sheltered 
from  all  harm  until  the  end  of  the  war.  Then 
he  will  go  back  to  abuse  Elsa  and  help  plan 
new  wars." 

The  dying  man's  eyes  darkened  with  an 
anguish  far  harder  to  bear  than  physical  pain. 

"  I  know,  dear  friend,"  he  murmured.  "  It 
seems  to  me  now  as  if  I  have  always  known. 
In  the  Fatherland  the  noble  idealism  of  Goethe 
and  Schiller  and  Lessing  has  been  submerged 
under  the  power-worship  of  mad  Nietzsche.  The 


414  The  Blond  Beast 

militarists  —  the  Pan-Germanists  —  dominate  a 
now  yoked  and  servile  people.  Upon  Europe 
are  let  loose  the  blond  beasts  of  Nietzsche,  tram- 
pling women  and  children  under  the  iron  heel 
of  f rightf ulness . . .  and  at  their  head,  abetting, 
encouraging,  commanding  to  ruthlessness,  the 
man  whom  I  thought  chosen  of  God  —  the  man 
whom  I  believed  the  peace  Emperor!  " 

Exhausted  by  this  flare  of  anguish,  the  sufferer 
lapsed  into  a  coma,  from  which  he  roused  with 
the  last  flicker  of  his  life  flame.  His  whisper, 
though  broken  and  barely  audible,  was  clearly 
coherent : 

"  Peace  and  rest  —  an  end  to  pain  and  grief! 
Do  not  weep . . .  Think  of  me  as  you  knew  me  in 
that  free  land  of  yours... You  would  not  take 
my  fortune  —  then  I  give  you  to  each  other... 
My  Iron  Cross  and  Red  Eagle  —  drop  them 
overboard  —  at  night  —  where  the  ocean  is 
deepest. . .  " 

The  whisper  ceased. .  .Thorpe  looked,  and 
drew  the  blanket  up  over  the  face  of  the  suf- 
ferer who  had  found  peace  and  rest.  —  Those 
who  yet  lived  had  neither  peace  nor  rest,  but 
war  and  work.  Thorpe  lifted  Lucy  from  her 
knees  and  led  her  out. 

When  they  were  quite  alone,  she  put  her  hands 
upon  his  shoulders  and  pressed  her  tear-wet  face 
against  his  breast. 

"  Oh,  Lan!    You  heard  him.    He  saw!  " 

11  He  saw  all  —  he  understood  all,"  said 
Thorpe,  and  his  arms  closed  about  the  sobbing 
girl.  "  We  kept  the  faith  with  him.  He  knew 
and  was  glad.  The  bitterness  was  for  those  who 


The  Givers  415 

have  not  kept  the  faith  — '  My  Iron   Cross . . . 
where  the   ocean  is   deepest.'  " 

"  For  him  to  say  that,  Lan  —  he  who  all  but 
worshiped  his  Kaiser.  How  he  must  have  suf- 
fered ! . . .  The  Kaiser  and  count  and  all  their 
like  —  apostles  and  disciples  of  frightfulness  — 
blond  beasts  of  Nietzsche!  " 

Thorpe  pushed  her  back  to  look  resolutely  into 
her  compassionate  eyes. 

11  Can  you  marry  a  man  who  is  about  to  lose 
his  American  birthright,  Lucy?  I  must  do  more 
than^  this  ambulance  work.  For  me  to  act  as  a 
neutral  any  longer  is  impossible.  I  must  take 
my  place  in  the  trenches.  That  means  loss  of 
citizenship. ' ' 

11  But  America  will  understand  in  time,  dear. 
Then  it  too  can  no  longer  remain  neutral . . . 
Will  I  marry  you?  Why,  dear  heart,  what  else 
do  you  suppose  I  followed  you  to  Europe  for?  " 

11  I  believe,"  said  Thorpe,  "  that  it  must  have 
been  to  inspire  me  to  do  with  all  my  strength 
my  part  in  this  great  struggle." 

Lucy  shuddered  and  drew  herself  close  again 
in  his  sheltering  arms. 

"  The  struggle  to  free  the  Elsas  and  Kurts, 
no  less  than  to  save  ourselves  from  the  fate  of 
Belgium!  "  she  cried.  ""I  give  you  to  that. 
The  mark  of  the  Beast  is  upon  those  who  have 
yoked  their  own  people  and  goaded  them  into 
this  mad  frenzy  of  frightfulness." 

Thorpe  clenched  his  fist. 

"  Better  that  America  should  give  every  dollar 
of  her  vast  wealth  for  the  defense  of  freedom 
and  right  —  better  for  all  American  men  to  shed 


416  The  Blond  Beast 

the  last  drop  of  their  blood  in  the  protection 
of  their  women  and  children  —  than  for  us  to 
submit  to  the  dominance  of  those  cold-blooded 
monsters  for  whom  no  treachery,  no  dishonor 
is  too  black  or  repulsive." 

"  Our  women  too  must  help/'  said  Lucy  — 
"  yes,  and  the  children. .  .You  will  go  into  the 
trenches,  but  I  will  work  behind  the  trenches 
to  help  my  man  win  the  struggle  for  the  freedom 
of  the  world." 

THE  END 


•••Ill 

000  051  674 


